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WHY  MEN  FIGHT 


WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

A  METHOD  OF  ABOLISHING 
THE  INTERNA  TIONAL  DUEL 


BY 
BERTRAND  RUSSELL,   M.A.,  F.R.S. 

Sometime  Fellow  and  Lecturer  in  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge 


NEW  YORK 

THE  CENTURY  CO. 

1917 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
The  Century  Co. 


Published,  January,  1917 


iJ  'S 


'KH 


Le  soufHe,  le  rhythme,  la  vraie  force  populaire 
manqua  a  la  reaction.  Elle  eut  les  rois,  les  tresors, 
les  armees;  elle  ecrasa  les  peuples,  mais  elle  resta 
muette.  Elle  tiia  en  silence;  elle  ne  put  parler 
qu'avee  le  canon  sur  ses  horribles  champs  de 
bataille.  .  .  .  Tuer  quinze  millions  d'hommes  par 
la  faim  et  I'epee,  a  la  bonne  heure,  cela  se  pent. 
Mais  faire  un  petit  chant,  un  air  aime  de  tous,  voila 
ce  que  nuUe  machination  ne  donnera.  .  ,  .  Don 
reserve,  beni.  .  .  .  Ce  chant  peut-etre  a  I'aube  jaillira 
d'un  coeur  simple,  ou  I'alouette  le  trouvera  en  mon- 
tant  au  soleil,  de  son  sillon  d'avril. 

MiCHELET. 


lysoosG 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  The  Principle  of  Growth 3 

II  The  State 42 

III  War  as  an  Institution 79 

IV  Property 117 

V  Education 153 

VI    Marriage  and  the  Population  Question  182 

VII    Religion  and  the  Churches    ....  215 

VIII    What  We  Can  Do 245 


WHY  MEN  FIGHT 


WHY  MEN  FIGHT 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH 

TO  all  who  are  capable  of  new  impressions 
and  fresh  thought,  some  modification  of 
former  beliefs  and  hopes  has  been  brought  by 
the  war.  What  the  modification  has  been  has 
depended,  in  each  case,  upon  character  and  cir- 
cumstance; but  in  one  form  or  another  it  has 
been  almost  universal.  To  me,  the  chief  thing 
to  be  learnt  through  the  war  has  been  a  certain 
view  of  the  springs  of  human  action,  what  they 
are,  and  what  we  may  legitimately  hope  that 
they  will  become.  This  view,  if  it  is  true,  seems 
to  afford  a  basis  for  political  philosophy  more 
capable  of  standing  erect  in  a  time  of  crisis  than 
the  philosophy  of  traditional  Liberalism  has 
shown  itself  to  be.  The  following  lectures, 
though  only  one  of  them  will  deal  with  war,  all 
are  inspired  by  a  view  of  the  springs  of  action 

3 


4  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

which  has  been  suggested  by  the  war.  And  all 
of  them  are  informed  by  the  hope  of  seeing  such 
political  institutions  established  in  Europe  as 
shall  make  men  averse  to  war — a  hope  which  I 
firmly  believe  to  be  realizable,  though  not  with- 
out a  great  and  fundamental  reconstruction  of 
economic  and  social  life. 

To  one  who  stands  outside  the  cycle  of  beliefs 
and  passions  which  make  the  war  seem  neces- 
sary, an  isolation,  an  almost  unbearable  separa- 
tion from  the  general  activity,  becomes  unavoid- 
able. At  the  very  moment  when  the  universal 
disaster  raises  compassion  in  the  highest  de- 
gree, compassion  itself  compels  aloofness  from 
the  impulse  to  self-destruction  which  has  swept 
over  Europe.  The  helpless  longing  to  save  men 
from  the  ruin  towards  which  they  are  hastening 
makes  it  necessary  to  oppose  the  stream,  to  in- 
cur hostility,  to  be  thought  unfeeling,  to  lose  for 
the  moment  the  power  of  winning  belief.  It  is 
impossible  to  prevent  others  from  feeling  hos- 
tile, but  it  is  possible  to  avoid  any  reciprocal  hos- 
tility on  one's  own  part,  by  imaginative  under- 
standing and  the  sympathy  which  grows  out  of 
it.  And  without  understanding  and  sympathy 
it  is  impossible  to  find  a  cure  for  the  evil  from 
which  the  world  is  suffering. 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH        5 

There  are  two  views  of  the  war  neither  of 
which  seems  to  me  adequate.  The  usual  view 
in  this  country  is  that  it  is  due  to  the  wicked- 
ness of  the  Germans ;  the  view  of  most  pacifists 
is  that  it  is  due  to  the  diplomatic  tangle  and 
to  the  ambitions  of  Governments.  I  think  both 
these  views  fail  to  realize  the  extent  to  which 
war  grows  out  of  ordinary  human  nature.  Ger- 
mans, and  also  the  men  who  compose  Govern- 
ments, are  on  the  whole  average  human  beings, 
actuated  by  the  same  passions  that  actuate 
others,  not  differing  much  from  the  rest  of  the 
world  except  in  their  circumstances.  War  is  ac- 
cepted by  men  who  are  neither  Germans  nor 
diplomatists  with  a  readiness,  an  acquiescence 
in  untrue  and  inadequate  reasons,  which  would 
not  be  possible  if  any  deep  repugnance  to  war 
were  widespread  in  other  nations  or  classes. 
The  untrue  things  which  men  believe,  and  the 
true  things  which  they  disbelieve,  are  an  in- 
dex to  their  impulses — not  necessarily  to  indi- 
vidual impulses  in  each  case  (since  beliefs  are 
contagious),  but  to  the  general  impulses  of  the 
community.  We  all  believe  many  things  which 
we  have  no  good  ground  for  believing,  because, 
subconsciously,  our  nature  craves  certain  kinds 
of  action  which  these  beliefs  would  render  reas- 


6  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

onable  if  they  were  true.  Unfounded  beliefs 
are  the  homage  which  impulse  pays  to  reason; 
and  thus  it  is  with  the  beliefs  which,  opposite 
but  similar,  make  men  here  and  in  Germany  be- 
lieve it  their  duty  to  prosecute  the  war. 

The  first  thought  which  naturally  occurs  to 
one  who  accepts  this  view  is  that  it  would  be 
well  if  men  were  more  under  the  dominion  of 
reason.  War,  to  those  who  see  that  it  must 
necessarily  do  untold  harm  to  all  the  combat- 
ants, seems  a  mere  madness,  a  collective  in- 
sanity in  which  all  that  has  been  known  in  time 
of  peace  is  forgotten.  If  impulses  were  more 
controlled,  if  thought  were  less  dominated  by 
passion,  men  would  guard  their  minds  against 
the  approaches  of  war  fever,  and  disputes  would 
be  adjusted  amicably.  This  is  true,  but  it  is  not 
by  itself  sufficient.  It  is  only  those  in  whom  the 
desire  to  think  truly  is  itself  a  passion  who  will 
find  this  desire  adequate  to  control  the  passions 
of  war.  Only  passion  can  control  passion,  and 
only  a  contrary  impulse  or  desire  can  check  im- 
pulse. Reason,  as  it  is  preached  by  traditional 
moralists,  is  too  negative,  too  little  living,  to 
make  a  good  life.  It  is  not  by  reason  alone  that 
wars  can  be  prevented,  but  by  a  positive  life  of 
impulses  and  passions  antagonistic  to  those  that 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OP  GROWTH        7 

lead  to  war.  It  is  the  life  of  impulse  that 
needs  to  be  changed,  not  only  the  life  of  con- 
scious thought. 

All  human  activity  springs  from  two  sources : 
impulse  and  desire.  The  part  played  by  desire 
has  always  been  sufficiently  recognized.  When 
men  find  themselves  not  fully  contented,  and 
not  able  instantly  to  procure  what  will  cause 
content,  imagination  brings  before  their  minds 
the  thought  of  things  which  they  believe  would 
make  them  happy.  All  desire  involves  an  in- 
terval of  time  between  the  consciousness  of  a 
need  and  the  opportunity  for  satisfying  it. 
The  acts  inspired  by  desire  may  be  in  them- 
selves painful,  the  time  before  satisfaction  can 
be  achieved  may  be  very  long,  the  object  de- 
sired may  be  something  outside  our  own  lives, 
and  even  after  our  own  death.  Will,  as  a  di- 
recting force,  consists  mainly  in  following  de- 
sires for  more  or  less  distant  objects,  in  spite 
of  the  painfulness  of  the  acts  involved  and  the 
solicitations  of  incompatible  but  more  imme- 
diate desires  and  impulses.  All  this  is  familiar, 
and  political  philosopliy  hitherto  has  been  al- 
most entirely  based  upon  desire  as  the  source  of 
human  actions. 

But  desire  governs  no  more  than  a  part  of 


8  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

human  activity,  and  that  not  the  most  impor- 
tant but  only  the  more  conscious,  explicit,  and 
civilized  part. 

In  all  the  more  instinctive  part  of  our  nature 
we  are  dominated  by  impulses  to  certain  kinds 
of  activity,  not  by  desires  for  certain  ends. 
Children  run  and  shout,  not  because  of  any  good 
which  they  expect  to  realize,  but  because  of  a 
direct  impulse  to  running  and  shouting.  Dogs 
bay  the  moon,  not  because  they  consider  that  it 
is  to  their  advantage  to  do  so,  but  because  they 
feel  an  impulse  to  bark.  It  is  not  any  purpose, 
but  merely  an  impulse,  that  prompts  such 
actions  as  eating,  drinking,  love-making,  quar- 
reling, boasting.  Those  who  believe  that  man 
is  a  rational  animal  will  say  that  people  boast 
in  order  that  others  may  have  a  good  opinion 
of  them;  but  most  of  ns  can  recall  occasions 
when  we  have  boasted  in  spite  of  knowing  that 
we  should  be  despised  for  it.  Instinctive  acts 
normally  achieve  some  result  which  is  agreeable 
to  the  natural  man,  but  they  are  not  performed 
from  desire  for  this  result.  They  are  per- 
formed from  direct  impulse,  and  the  impulse 
is  often  strong  even  in  cases  in  which  the  normal 
desirable  result  cannot  follow.  Grown  men  like 
to  imagine  themselves  more  rational  than  chil- 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH        9 

dren  and  dogs,  and  unconsciously  conceal  from 
themselves  how  great  a  part  impulse  plays  in 
their  lives.  This  unconscious  concealment  al- 
ways follows  a  certain  general  plan.  When  an 
impulse  is  not  indulged  in  the  moment  in  which 
it  arises,  there  grows  up  a  desire  for  the  ex- 
pected consequences  of  indulging  the  impulse. 
If  some  of  the  consequences  which  are  reason- 
ably to  be  expected  are  clearly  disagreeable,  a 
conflict  between  foresight  and  impulse  arises. 
If  the  impulse  is  weak,  foresight  may  conquer; 
this  is  what  is  called  acting  on  reason.  If  the 
impulse  is  strong,  either  foresight  will  be  falsi- 
fied, and  the  disagreeable  consequences  will  be 
forgotten,  or,  in  men  of  a  heroic  mold,  the  con- 
sequences may  be  recklessly  accepted.  When 
Macbeth  realizes  that  he  is  doomed  to  defeat, 
he  does  not  shrink  from  the  fight;  he  ex- 
claims : — 

Lay  on,  Macduff, 
And  damned  be  him  that  first  cries,  Hold,  enough! 

But  such  strength  and  recklessness  of  im- 
pulse is  rare.  Most  men,  when  their  impulse 
is  strong,  succeed  in  persuading  themselves, 
usually  by  a  subconscious  selectiveness  of 
attention,  that  agreeable  consequences  will 
follow  from  the  indulgence  of  their  impulse. 


10  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

"Whole  philosophies,  whole  systems  of  ethical 
valuation,  spring  up  in  this  way:  they  are  the 
embodiment  of  a  kind  of  thought  w^hich  is  sub- 
servient to  impulse,  which  aims  at  providing  a 
quasi-rational  ground  for  the  indulgence  of  im- 
pulse. The  only  thought  which  is  genuine  is 
that  which  springs  out  of  the  intellectual  im- 
pulse of  curiosity,  leading  to  the  desire  to  know 
and  understand.  But  most  of  what  passes  for 
thought  is  inspired  by  some  non-intellectual  im- 
pulse, and  is  merely  a  means  of  persuading  our- 
selves that  we  shall  not  be  disappointed  or  do 
harm  if  we  indulge  this  impulse.^ 

When  an  impulse  is  restrained,  we  feel  dis- 
comfort or  even  violent  pain.  We  may  indulge 
the  impulse  in  order  to  escape  from  this  pain, 
and  our  action  is  then  one  which  has  a  purpose. 
But  the  pain  only  exists  because  of  the  impulse, 
and  the  impulse  itself  is  directed  to  an  act,  not 
to  escaping  from  the  pain  of  restraining  the  im- 
pulse. The  impulse  itself  remains  without  a 
purpose,  and  the  purpose  of  escaping  from  pain 
only  arises  when  the  impulse  has  been  momen- 
tarily restrained. 

1  On  this  subject  compare  Bernard  Hart's  "Psychology  of 
Insanity"  (Cambridge  University  Press,  1914),  chap,  v,  espe- 
cially pp.  62-5, 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       11 

Impulse  is  at  the  basis  of  our  activity,  much 
more  than  desire.  Desire  has  its  place,  but  not 
so  large  a  place  as  it  seemed  to  have.  Impulses 
bring  with  them  a  whole  train  of  subservient 
fictitious  desires :  they  make  men  feel  that  they 
desire  the  results  which  w^ill  follow  from  indulg- 
ing the  impulses,  and  that  they  are  acting  for 
the  sake  of  these  results,  when  in  fact  their 
action  has  no  motive  outside  itself.  A  man  may 
write  a  book  or  paint  a  picture  under  the  belief 
that  he  desires  the  praise  which  it  will  bring 
him ;  but  as  soon  as  it  is  finished,  if  his  creative 
impulse  is  not  exhausted,  what  he  has  done 
grows  uninteresting  to  him,  and  he  begins  a  new 
piece  of  work.  What  applies  to  artistic  crea- 
tion applies  equally  to  all  that  is  most  vital  in 
our  lives :  direct  impulse  is  what  moves  us,  and 
the  desires  which  we  think  we  have  are  a  mere 
garment  for  the  impulse. 

Desire,  as  opposed  to  impulse,  has,  it  is  true, 
a  large  and  increasing  share  in  the  regulation 
of  men's  lives.  Impulse  is  erratic  and  anarch- 
ical, not  easily  fitted  into  a  well-regulated  sys- 
tem ;  it  may  be  tolerated  in  children  and  artists, 
but  it  is  not  thought  proper  to  men  who  hope  to 
be  taken  seriously.  Almost  all  paid  work  is 
done  from  desire,  not  from  impulse :  the  work  it- 


12  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

self  is  more  or  less  irksome,  but  the  payment 
for  it  is  desired.  The  serious  activities  that  fill 
a  man's  working  hours  are,  except  in  a  few  for- 
tunate individuals,  governed  mainly  by  pur- 
poses, not  by  impulses  towards  those  activities. 
In  this  hardly  any  one  sees  an  evil,  because  the 
place  of  impulse  in  a  satisfactory  existence  is 
not  recognized. 

An  impulse,  to  one  who  does  not  share  it 
actually  or  imaginatively,  will  always  seem  to 
be  mad.  All  impulse  is  essentially  blind,  in  the 
sense  that  it  does  not  spring  from  any  prevision 
of  consequences.  The  man  who  does  not  share 
the  impulse  will  form  a  different  estimate  as  to 
what  the  consequences  will  be,  and  as  to  whether 
those  that  must  ensue  are  desirable.  This  dif- 
ference of  opinion  will  seem  to  be  ethical  or  in- 
tellectual, whereas  its  real  basis  is  a  difference 
of  impulse.  No  genuine  agreement  will  be 
reached,  in  such  a  case,  so  long  as  the  difference 
of  impulse  persists.  In  all  men  who  have  any 
vigorous  life,  there  are  strong  impulses  such 
as  may  seem  utterly  unreasonable  to  others. 
Blind  impulses  sometimes  lead  to  destruction 
and  death,  but  at  other  times  they  lead  to  the 
best  things  the  world  contains.  Blind  impulse 
is  the  source  of  war,  but  it  is  also  the  source  of 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       13 

science,  and  art,  and  love.  It  is  not  the  weaken- 
ing of  impulse  that  is  to  be  desired,  but  the  (^ 
rection  of  impulse  towards  life  and  growth 
rather  than  towards  death  and  decay. 

The  complete  control  of  impulse  by  will,  which 
is  sometimes  preached  by  moralists,  and  often 
enforced  by  economic  necessity,  is  not  really  de- 
sirable. A  life  governed  by  purposes  and  de- 
sires, to  the  exclusion  of  impulse,  is  a  tiring  life ; 
it  exhausts  vitality,  and  leaves  a  man,  in  the 
end,  indifferent  to  the  very  purposes  which  he 
has  been  trying  to  achieve.  When  a  whole  na- 
tion lives  in  this  way,  the  whole  nation  tends  to 
become  feeble,  without  enough  grasp  to  recog- 
nize and  overcome  the  obstacles  to  its  desires. 
Industrialism  and  organization  are  constantly 
forcing  civilized  nations  to  live  more  and  more 
by  purpose  rather  than  impulse.  In  the  long 
run  such  a  mode  of  existence,  if  it  does  not  dry 
up  the  springs  of  life,  produces  new  impulses, 
not  of  the  kind  which  the  will  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  controlling  or  of  which  thought  is  con- 
scious. These  new  impulses  are  apt  to  be  worse 
in  their  effects  than  those  that  have  been 
checked.  Excessive  discipline,  especially  when 
it  is  imposed  from  without,  often  issues  in  im- 
pulses of  cruelty  and  destruction;  this  is  one 


14  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

reason  why  militarism  has  a  bad  effect  on  na- 
tional character.  Either  lack  of  vitality,  or  im- 
pulses which  are  oppressive  and  against  life, 
will  almost  always  result  if  the  spontaneous  im- 
pulses are  not  able  to  find  an  outlet.  A  man's 
impulses  are  not  fixed  from  the  beginning  by  his 
native  disposition:  within  certain  wide  limits, 
they  are  profoundly  modified  by  his  circum- 
stances and  his  way  of  life.  The  nature  of 
these  modifications  ought  to  be  studied,  and  the 
results  of  such  study  ought  to  be  taken  ac- 
count of  in  judging  the  good  or  harm  that  is 
done  by  political  and  social  institutions. 

The  war  has  grown,  in  the  main,  out  of  the 
life  of  impulse,  not  out  of  reason  or  desire. 
There  is  an  impulse  of  aggression,  and  an  im- 
pulse of  resistance  to  aggression.  Either  may, 
on  occasion,  be  in  accordance  with  reason,  but 
both  are  operative  in  many  cases  in  which  they 
are  quite  contrary  to  reason.  Each  impulse 
produces  a  whole  harvest  of  attendant  beliefs. 
The  beliefs  appropriate  to  the  impulse  of  ag- 
gression may  be  seen  in  Bernhardi,  or  in  the 
early  Mohammedan  conquerors,  or,  in  full  per- 
fection, in  the  Book  of  Joshua.  There  is  first 
of  all  a  conviction  of  the  superior  excellence  of 
one's  own  group,  a  certainty  that  they  are  in 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       15 

some  sense  the  chosen  people.  This  justifies 
the  feeling  that  only  the  good  and  evil  of  one's 
own  group  is  of  real  importance,  and  that  the 
rest  of  the  world  is  to  be  regarded  merely  as 
material  for  the  triumph  or  salvation  of  the 
higher  race.  In  modern  politics  this  attitude  is 
embodied  in  imperialism.  Europe  as  a  whole 
has  this  attitude  towards  Asia  and  Africa,  and 
many  Germans  have  this  attitude  towards  the 
rest  of  Europe. 

Correlative  to  the  impulse  of  aggression  is 
the  impulse  of  resistance  to  aggression.  This 
impulse  is  exemplified  in  the  attitude  of  the 
Israelites  to  the  Philistines  or  of  medieval 
Europe  to  the  Mohammedans.  The  beliefs 
which  it  produces  are  beliefs  in  the  peculiar 
wickedness  of  those  whose  aggression  is  feared, 
and  in  tlie  immense  value  of  national  customs 
which  they  might  suppress  if  they  were  vic- 
torious. When  the  war  broke  out,  all  the  re- 
actionaries in  England  and  France  began  to 
speak  of  the  danger  to  democracy,  although  un- 
til that  moment  they  had  opposed  democracy 
with  all  their  strength.  They  were  not  insin- 
cere in  so  speaking:  the  impulse  of  resistance 
to  Germany  made  them  value  whatever  was  en- 
dangered by  the  German  attack.     They  loved 


16  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

democracy  because  they  hated  Germany;  but 
they  thought  they  hated  Germany  because  they 
loved  democracy. 

The  correlative  impulses  of  aggression  and 
resistance  to  aggression  have  both  been  opera- 
tive in  all  the  countries  engaged  in  the  war. 
Those  who  have  not  been  dominated  by  one  or 
other  of  these  impulses  may  be  roughly  divided 
into  three  classes.  There  are,  first,  men  whose 
national  sentiment  is  antagonistic  to  the  State 
to  which  they  are  subject.  This  class  includes 
some  Irish,  Poles,  Finns,  Jews,  and  other  mem- 
bers of  oppressed  nations.  From  our  point  of 
view,  these  men  may  be  omitted  from  our  con- 
sideration, since  they  have  the  same  impulsive 
nature  as  those  who  fight,  and  differ  merely  in 
external  circumstances. 

The  second  class  of  men  who  have  not  been 
part  of  the  force  supporting  the  war  have  been 
those  whose  impulsive  nature  is  more  or  less 
atrophied.  Opponents  of  pacifism  suppose  that 
all  pacifists  belong  to  this  class,  except  when 
they  are  in  German  pay.  It  is  thought  that 
pacifists  are  bloodless,  men  without  passions, 
men  who  can  look  on  and  reason  with  cold  de- 
tachment while  their  brothers  are  giving  their 
lives  for  their  country.     Among  those  who  are 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       17 

merely  passively  pacifist,  and  do  no  more  than 
abstain  from  actively  taking  part  in  the  war, 
there  may  be  a  certain  proportion  of  whom  this 
is  true.  I  think  the  supporters  of  war  would  be 
right  in  decrying  such  men.  In  spite  of  all  the 
destruction  which  is  wrought  by  the  impulses 
that  lead  to  war,  there  is  more  hope  for  a  na- 
tion which  has  these  impulses  than  for  a  na- 
tion in  which  all  impulse  is  dead.  Impulse  is 
the  expression  of  life,  and  while  it  exists  there 
is  hope  of  its  turning  towards  life  instead  of  to- 
wards death;  but  lack  of  impulse  is  death,  and 
out  of  death  no  new  life  will  come. 

The  active  pacifists,  however,  are  not  of  this 
class :  they  are  not  men  without  impulsive  force 
but  men  in  whom  some  impulse  to  which  war  is 
hostile  is  strong  enough  to  overcome  the  im- 
pulses tliat  lead  to  war.  It  is  not  the  act  of  a 
passionless  man  to  throw  himself  athwart  the 
whole  movement  of  the  national  life,  to  urge  an 
outwardly  hopeless  cause,  to  incur  obloquy  and 
to  resist  the  contagion  of  collective  emotion. 
The  impulse  to  avoid  the  hostility  of  public  opin- 
ion is  one  of  the  strongest  in  human  nature,  and 
can  only  be  overcome  by  an  unusual  force  of 
direct  and  uncalculating  impulse ;  it  is  not  cold 
reason  alone  that  can  prompt  such  an  act. 


18  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Impulses  may  be  divided  into  those  that  make 
for  life  and  those  that  make  for  death.  The 
impulses  embodied  in  the  war  are  among  those 
that  make  for  death.  Any  one  of  the  impulses 
that  make  for  life,  if  it  is  strong  enough,  will 
lead  a  man  to  stand  out  against  the  war.  Some 
of  these  impulses  are  only  strong  in  highly 
civilized  men ;  some  are  part  of  common  human- 
ity. The  impulses  towards  art  and  science  are 
among  the  more  civilized  of  those  that  make  for 
life.  Many  artists  have  remained  wholh^  un- 
touched by  the  passions  of  the  war,  not  from 
feebleness  of  feeling,  but  because  the  creative 
instinct,  the  pursuit  of  a  vision,  makes  them 
critical  of  the  assaults  of  national  passion,  and 
not  responsive  to  the  myth  in  which  the  impulse 
of  pugnacity  clothes  itself.  And  the  few  men 
in  whom  the  scientific  impulse  is  dominant  have 
noticed  the  rival  myths  of  warring  groups,  and 
have  been  led  through  understanding  to  neu- 
trality. But  it  is  not  out  of  such  refined  im- 
pulses that  a  popular  force  can  be  generated 
which  shall  be  sufficient  to  transform  the  world. 

There  are  three  forces  on  the  side  of  life 
which  require  no  exceptional  mental  endowment, 
which  are  not  very  rare  at  present,  and  might 
be  very  common  under  better  social  institutions. 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       19 

They  are  love,  the  instinct  of  constmctiveness. 
and  the  joy  of  life.  AH  three  are  checked  and 
enfeebled  at  present  by  the  conditions  under 
which  men  live — not  only  the  less  outwardly  for- 
tunate, but  also  the  majority  of  the  well-to-do. 
Our  institutions  rest  upon  injustice  and  author- 
ity: it  is  only  by  closing  our  hearts  against 
sympathy  and  our  minds  against  truth  that 
we  can  endure  the  oppressions  and  unfairnesses 
by  which  we  profit.  The  conventional  concep- 
tion of  what  constitutes  success  leads  most  men 
to  live  a  life  in  which  their  most  vital  impulses 
are  sacrificed,  and  the  joy  of  life  is  lost  in  list- 
less weariness.  Our  economic  system  compels 
almost  all  men  to  carry  out  the  purposes  of 
others  rather  than  their  own,  making  them  feel 
impotent  in  action  and  only  able  to  secure  a  cer- 
tain modicum  of  passive  pleasure.  All  these 
things  destroy  the  vigor  of  the  community,  the 
expansive  affections  of  individuals ,  and  the 
power  of  viewing  the  world  generously.  All 
these  things  are  unnecessary  and  can  be  ended 
by  wisdom  and  courage.  If  they  were  ended, 
the  impulsive  life  of  men  would  become  wholly 
different,  and  the  human  race  might  travel  to- 
wards a  new  happiness  and  a  new  vigor.  To 
urge  this  hope  is  the  purpose  of  these  lectures. 


20  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

The  impulses  and  desires  of  men  and  women, 
in  so  far  as  they  are  of  real  importance  in  their 
lives,  are  not  detached  one  from  another,  but 
proceed  from  a  central  principle  of  growth,  an 
instinctive  urgency  leading  them  in  a  certain  di- 
rection, as  trees  seek  the  light..  So  long  as  this 
instinctive  movement  is  not  thwarted,  whatever 
misfortunes  may  occur  are  not  fundamental  dis- 
asters, and  do  not  produce  those  distortions 
which  result  from  interference  with  natural 
growth.  This  intimate  center  in  each  human 
being  is  what  imagination  must  apprehend  if 
we  are  to  understand  him  intuitively.  It  differs 
from  man  to  man,  and  detennines  for  each  man 
the  type  of  excellence  of  which  he  is  capable. 
The  utmost  that  social  institutions  can  do  for  a 
man  is  to  make  his  own  growth  free  and  vigor- 
ous :  they  cannot  force  him  to  grow  according  to 
the  pattern  of  another  man.  There  are  in  men 
some  impulses  and  desires — for  example,  those 
towards  dmgs — ^which  do  not  grow  out  of  the 
central  principle ;  such  impulses,  when  they  be- 
come strong  enough  to  be  harmful,  have  to 
be  checked  by  self-discipline.  Other  impulses, 
though  they  may  grow  out  of  the  central  prin- 
ciple in  the  individual,  may  be  injurious  to  the 
growth  of  others,  and  they  need  to  be  checked  in 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       21 

the  interest  of  others.  But  in  the  main,  the  im- 
pulses which  are  injurious  to  others  tend  to  re- 
sult from  thwarted  growth,  and  to  be  least  in 
those  who  have  been  unimpeded  in  their  instinc- 
tive development. 

Men,  like  trees,  require  for  their  growth  the 
right  soil  and  a  sufficient  freedom  from  oppres- 
sion. These  can  be  helped  or  hindered  by  politi- 
cal institutions.  But  the  soil  and  the  freedom 
required  for  a  man's  growth  are  immeasurably 
more  difficult  to  discover  and  to  obtain  than  the 
soil  and  the  freedom  required  for  the  growth  of 
a  tree.  And  the  full  growth  which  may  be 
hoped  for  cannot  be  defined  or  demonstrated; 
it  is  subtle  and  complex,  it  can  only  be  felt  by  a 
delicate  intuition  and  dimly  apprehended  by 
imagination  and  respect.  It  depends  not  only 
or  chiefly  upon  the  physical  environment,  but 
upon  beliefs  and  affections,  upon  opportunities 
for  action,  and  upon  the  whole  life  of  the  com- 
munity. The  more  developed  and  civilized  the 
type  of  man  the  more  elaborate  are  the  condi- 
tions of  his  growth,  and  the  more  dependent 
they  become  upon  the  general  state  of  the  so- 
ciety in  which  he  lives.  A  man's  needs  and  de- 
sires are  not  confined  to  his  own  life.  If  his 
mind   is   comprehensive    and   his   imagination 


22  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

vivid,  the  failures  of  the  community  to  which  he 
belongs  are  his  failures,  and  its  successes  are 
his  successes:  according  as  his  community  suc- 
ceeds or  fails,  his  own  growth  is  nourished  or 
impeded. 

In  the  modern  world,  the  principle  of  growth 
in  most  men  and  women  is  hampered  by  insti- 
tutions inherited  from  a  simpler  age.  By  the 
progress  of  thought  and  knowledge,  and  by  the 
increase  in  command  over  the  forces  of  the  phys- 
ical world,  new  possibilities  of  growth  have 
come  into  existence,  and  have  given  rise  to  new 
claims  which  must  be  satisfied  if  those  who  make 
them  are  not  to  be  thwarted.  There  is  less 
acquiescence  in  limitations  which  are  no  longer 
unavoidable,  and  less  possibility  of  a  good  life 
while  those  limitations  remain.  Institutions 
which  give  much  greater  opportunities  to  some 
classes  than  to  others  are  no  longer  recognized 
as  just  by  the  less  fortunate,  though  the  more 
fortunate  still  defend  them  vehemently.  Hence 
arises  a  universal  strife,  in  which  tradition  and 
authority  are  arrayed  against  liberty  and  jus- 
tice. Our  professed  morality,  being  traditional, 
loses  its  hold  upon  those  who  are  in  revolt.  Co- 
operation between  the  defenders  of  the  old  and 
the  champions  of  the  new  has  become  almost  im- 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       23 

possible.  An  intimate  disunion  has  entered 
into  almost  all  the  relations  of  life  in  continually 
increasing  measure.  In  the  fight  for  freedom, 
men  and  women  become  increasingly  unable  to 
break  down  the  walls  of  the  Ego  and  achieve 
the  growth  which  comes  from  a  real  and  vital 
union. 

All  our  institutions  have  their  historic  basis 
in  Authority.  The  unquestioned  authority  of 
the  Oriental  despot  found  its  religious  expres- 
sion in  the  omnipotent  Creator,  whose  glory  was 
the  sole  end  of  man,  and  against  whom  man 
had  no  rights.  This  authority  descended  to  the 
Emperor  and  Pope,  to  the  kings  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  to  the  nobles  in  the  feudal  hierarchy,  and 
even  to  every  husband  and  father  in  his  deal- 
ings with  his  wife  and  children.  The  Church 
was  the  direct  embodiment  of  the  Divine  au- 
thority, the  State  and  the  law  were  constituted 
by  the  authoriy  of  the  King,  private  property 
in  land  grew  out  of  the  authority  of  conquering 
barons,  and  the  family  was  governed  by  the  au- 
thority of  the  pater-familias. 

The  institutions  of  the  Middle  Ages  permitted 
only  a  fortunate  few  to  develop  freely :  the  vast 
majority  of  mankind  existed  to  minister  to  the 
few.    But  so  long  as  authority  was  genuinely 


24  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

respected  and  acknowledged  even  by  its  least 
fortunate  subjects,  medieval  society  remained 
organic  and  not  fundamentally  hostile  to  life, 
since  outward  submission  was  compatible  with 
inward  freedom  because  it  was  voluntary.  The 
institutions  of  Western  Christendom  embodied 
a  theory  which  was  really  believed,  as  no  theory 
by  which  our  present  institutions  can  be  de- 
fended is  now  believed. 

The  medieval  theory  of  life  broke  down 
through  its  failure  to  satisfy  men's  demands  for 
justice  and  liberty.  Under  the  stress  of  oppres- 
sion, w^hen  rulers  exceeded  their  theoretical 
powers,  the  victims  were  forced  to  realize  that 
they  themselves  also  had  rights,  and  need  not 
live  merely  to  increase  the  glory  of  the  few. 
Gradually  it  came  to  be  seen  that  if  men  have 
power,  they  are  likely  to  abuse  it,  and  that 
authority  in  practice  means  tyranny.  Because 
the  claim  to  justice  was  resisted  by  the  holders 
of  power,  men  became  more  and  more  separate 
units,  each  fighting  for  his  own  rights,  not  a 
genuine  community  bound  together  by  an  or- 
ganic common  purpose.  This  absence  of  a  com- 
mon purpose  has  become  a  source  of  unhappi- 
ness.  One  of  the  reasons  which  led  many  men 
to  welcome  the  outbreak  of  the  present  war  was 


THE  PEINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       25 

that  it  made  each  nation  again  a  whole  com- 
munity  with  a  single  purpose.  It  did  this  b}"  de- 
stroying, for  the  present,  the  beginnings  of  a 
single  purpose  in  the  civilized  world  as  a  whole ; 
but  these  beginnings  were  as  yet  so  feeble  that 
few  were  much  affected  by  their  destruction. 
Men  rejoiced  in  the  new  sense  of  unity  with  their 
compatriots  more  than  they  minded  the  in- 
creased separation  from  their  enemies. 

The  hardening  and  separation  of  the  indi- 
vidual in  the  course  of  the  fight  for  freedom 
has  been  inevitable,  and  is  not  likely  ever  to 
be  wholly  undone.  What  is  necessary,  if  an  or- 
ganic society  is  to  grow  up,  is  that  our  institu- 
tions should  be  so  fundamentally  changed  as  to 
embody  that  new  respect  for  the  individual  and 
his  rights  which  modern  feeling  demands.  The 
medieval  Empire  and  Church  swept  away  the 
individual.  There  were  heretics,  but  they  were 
massacred  relentlessly,  without  any  of  the 
qualms  aroused  by  later  persecutions.  And 
they,  like  their  persecutors,  were  persuaded  that 
there  ought  to  be  one  universal  Church:  they 
differed  only  as  to  what  its  creed  should  be. 
Among  a  few  men  of  art  and  letters,  the  Renais- 
sance undermined  the  medieval  theory,  without, 
however,  replacing  it  by  anything  but  skepticism 


26  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

and  confusion.  The  first  serious  breach  in  this 
medieval  theory  was  caused  by  Luther's  asser- 
tion of  the  right  of  private  judgment  and  the 
fallibiUty  of  General  Councils.  Out  of  this  as- 
sertion grew  inevitably,  with  time,  the  belief 
that  a  man's  religion  could  not  be  determined 
for  him  by  authority,  but  must  be  left  to  the  free 
choice  of  each  individual.  It  was  in  matters  of 
religion  that  the  battle  for  liberty  began,  and 
it  is  in  matters  of  religion  that  it  has  come  near- 
est to  a  comjDlete  victory.^ 

The  development  through  extreme  individu- 
alism to  strife,  and  thence,  one  hopes,  to  a  new 
reintegration,  is  to  be  seen  in  almost  every 
department  of  life.  Claims  are  advanced  in  the 
name  of  justice,  and  resisted  in  the  name  of  tra- 
dition and  prescriptive  right.  Each  side  hon- 
estly believes  that  it  deserves  to  triumph,  be- 
cause two  theories  of  society  exist  side  by  side 
in  our  thought,  and  men  choose,  unconsciously, 
the  theory  which  fits  their  case.  Because  the 
battle  is  long  and  arduous  all  general  theory  is 
gradually  forgotten ;  in  the  end,  nothing  remains 
but  self-assertion,  and  when  the  oppressed  win 

1  This  was  written  before  Christianity  had  become  punish- 
able by  hard  labor,  penal  servitude,  or  even  death,  under  the 
Military  Service  Act   (Xo.  2).     [Note  added  in  1916.] 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       27 

freedom  they  are  as  oppressive  as  their  former 
masters. 

This  is  seen  most  crudely  in  the  case  of  what 
is  called  nationalism.  Nationalism,  in  theory, 
is  the  doctrine  that  men,  by  their  sympathies  and 
traditions,  form  natural  groups,  called  "na- 
tions," each  of  which  ought  to  be  united  under 
one  central  Government.  In  the  main  this  doc- 
trine may  be  conceded.  But  in  practice  the  doc- 
trine takes  a  more  personal  form.  "I  belong," 
the  oppressed  nationalist  argues,  ''by  sympathy 
and  tradition  to  nation  A,  but  I  am  subject  to  a 
government  which  is  in  the  hands  of  nation  B. 
This  is  an  injustice,  not  only  because  of  the  gen- 
eral principle  of  nationalism,  but  because  nation 
A  is  generous,  progressive,  and  civilized,  while 
nation  B  is  oppressive,  retrograde,  and  barbar- 
ous. Because  this  is  so,  nation  A  deserves  to 
prosper,  while  nation  B  deserves  to  be  abased." 
The  inhabitants  of  nation  B  are  naturally  deaf 
to  the  claims  of  abstract  justice,  when  they  are 
accompanied  by  personal  hostility  and  con- 
tempt. Presently,  however,  in  the  course  of 
war,  nation  A  acquires  its  freedom.  The 
energy  and  pride  which  have  achieved  freedom 
generates  a  momentum  which  leads  on,  almost 
infallibly,  to  the  attempt  at  foreign  conquest,  or 


28  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

to  the  refusal  of  liberty  to  some  smaller  nation. 
''What?  You  say  that  nation  C,  which  forms 
part  of  our  State,  has  the  same  rights  against 
as  as  we  had  against  nation  A  ?  But  that  is  ab- 
surd. Nation  C  is  swinish  and  turbulent,  in- 
capable of  good  government,  needing  a  strong 
hand  if  it  is  not  to  be  a  menace  and  a  disturbance 
to  all  its  neighbors."  So  the  English  used  to 
speak  of  the  Irish,  so  the  Germans  and  Russians 
speak  of  the  Poles,  so  the  Galician  Poles  speak 
of  the  Ruthenes,  so  the  Austrians  used  to  speak 
of  the  Magyars,  so  the  Magyars  speak  of  the 
South  Slav  sympathizers  with  Serbia,  so  the 
Serbs  speak  of  the  Macedonian  Bulgars.  In 
this  way  nationalism,  unobjectionable  in  theory, 
leads  by  a  natural  movement  to  oppression  and 
wars  of  conquest.  No  sooner  was  France  free 
from  the  English,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  than 
it  embarked  upon  the  conquest  of  Italy;  no 
sooner  was  Spain  freed  from  the  Moors  than  it 
entered  into  more  than  a  century  of  conflict 
with  France  for  the  supremacy  in  Europe.  The 
case  of  Germany  is  very  interesting  in  this  re- 
spect. At  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury German  culture  was  French:  French  was 
the  language  of  the  Courts,  the  language  in 
which  Leibnitz  wrote  his  philosophy,  the  uni- 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       29 

versal  language  of  polite  letters  and  learning. 
National  consciousness  liardly  existed.  Then  a 
series  of  great  men  created  a  self-respect  in 
Germany  by  their  achievements  in  poetry, 
music,  philosophy,  and  science.  But  politically 
German  nationalism  was  only  created  by  Na- 
poleon's oppression  and  the  uprising  of  1813. 
After  centuries  during  which  every  disturbance 
of  the  peace  of  Europe  began  with  a  French  or 
Swedish  or  Russian  invasion  of  Germany,  the 
Germans  discovered  that  by  sufficient  effort  and 
union  they  could  keep  foreign  armies  off  their 
territory.  But  the  effort  required  had  been  too 
great  to  cease  when  its  purely  defensive  pur- 
pose had  been  achieved  by  the  defeat  of  Na- 
poleon. Now,  a  hundred  years  later,  they 
are  still  engaged  in  the  same  movement, 
which  has  become  one  of  aggression  and 
conquest.  Whether  we  are  now  seeing  the  end 
of  the  movement  it  is  not  yet  possible  to 
guess. 

If  men  had  any  strong  sense  of  a  community 
of  nations,  nationalism  would  serve  to  define 
the  boundaries  of  the  various  nations.  But  be- 
cause men  only  feel  community  within  their  own 
nation,  nothing  but  force  is  able  to  make  them 
respect  the  rights  of  other  nations,  even  when 


30  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

they  are  asserting  exactly  similar  rights  on  their 
own  behalf. 

Analogous  development  is  to  be  expected, 
with  the  course  of  time,  in  the  conflict  between 
capital  and  labor  which  has  existed  since  the 
growth  of  the  industrial  system,  and  in  the  con- 
flict between  men  and  women,  which  is  still  in  its 
infancy. 

What  is  wanted,  in  these  various  conflicts,  is 
some  principle,  genuinely  believed,  w^hich  will 
have  justice  for  its  outcome.  The  tug  of  w^ar 
of  mutual  self-assertion  can  only  result  in 
justice  through  an  accidental  equality  of  force. 
It  is  no  use  to  attempt  any  bolstering  up  of  in- 
stitutions based  on  authority,  since  all  such  in- 
stitutions involve  injustice,  and  injustice  once 
realized  cannot  be  perpetuated  without  funda- 
mental damage  both  to  those  who  uphold  it  and 
to  those  who  resist  it.  The  damage  consists  in 
the  hardening  of  the  walls  of  the  Ego,  making 
them  a  prison  instead  of  a  window.  Unimpeded 
growth  in  the  individual  depends  upon  many 
contacts  with  other  people,  which  must  be  of  the 
nature  of  free  cooperation,  not  of  enforced  serv- 
ice. While  the  belief  in  authority  was  alive, 
free  cooperation  was  compatible  with  inequality 
and  subjection,  but  now  equality  and  mutual 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       31 

freedom  are  necessary.  All  institutions,  if  they 
are  not  to  hamper  individual  growth,  must  be 
based  as  far  as  possible  upon  voluntary  com- 
bination, rather  than  the  force  of  the  law  or  the 
traditional  authority  of  the  holders  of  power. 
None  of  our  institutions  can  survive  the  applica- 
tion of  this  principle  without  great  and  funda- 
mental changes;  but  these  changes  are  impera- 
tively necessary  if  the  world  is  to  be  withheld 
from  dissolving  into  hard  separate  units  each  at 
war  with  all  the  others. 

The  two  chief  sources  of  good  relations  be- 
tween individuals  are  instinctive  liking  and  a 
common  purpose.  Of  these  two,  a  common  pur- 
pose might  seem  more  important  politically, 
but,  in  fact,  it  is  often  the  outcome,  not  the 
cause,  of  instinctive  liking,  or  of  a  common  in- 
stinctive aversion.  Biological  groups,  from 
the  family  to  the  nation,  are  constituted  by  a 
greater  or  less  degree  of  instinctive  liking,  and 
build  their  common  purposes  on  this  founda- 
tion. 

Instinctive  liking  is  the  feeling  which  makes 
us  take  pleasure  in  another  person's  company, 
find  an  exhilaration  in  his  presence,  wish  to 
talk  with  him,  work  with  him,  play  with  him. 
The  extreme  form  of  it  is  being  in  love,  but  its 


32  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

fainter  forms,  and  even  the  very  faintest,  have 
political  importance.  The  presence  of  a  person 
who  is  instinctively  disliked  tends  to  make  any 
other  person  more  likable.  An  anti-Semite 
will  love  any  fellow-Christian  when  a  Jew  is 
present.  In  China,  or  the  wilds  of  Africa,  any 
white  man  would  be  welcomed  with  joy.  A 
common  aversion  is  one  of  the  most  frequent 
causes  of  mild  instinctive  liking. 

Men  differ  enormously  in  the  frequency  and 
intensity  of  their  instinctive  likings,  and  the 
same  man  w^ill  differ  greatly  at  different  times. 
One  may  take  Carlyle  and  Walt  Whitman  as  op- 
posite poles  in  this  respect.  To  Carlyle,  at  any 
rate  in  later  life,  most  men  and  women  were  re- 
pulsive; they  inspired  an  instinctive  aversion 
which  made  him  find  pleasure  in  imagining  them 
under  the  guillotine  or  perishing  in  battle.  This 
led  him  to  belittle  most  men,  finding  satisfaction 
only  in  those  who  had  been  notably  destructive 
of  human  life — Frederick  the  Great,  Dr.  Fran- 
cia,  and  Governor  Eyre.  It  led  him  to  love  war 
and  violence,  and  to  despise  the  weak  and  the 
oppressed — for  example,  the  ''thirty  thousand 
distressed  needlewomen,"  on  whom  he  was 
never  weary  of  venting  his  scorn.  His  morals 
and  his  politics,  in  later  life,  were  inspired 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       33 

through  and  through  by  repugnance  to  almost 
the  whole  human  race. 

Walt  Whitman,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  warm, 
expansive  feeling  towards  the  vast  majority  of 
men  and  women.  His  queer  catalogues  seemed 
to  him  interesting  because  each  item  came  be- 
fore his  imagination  as  an  object  of  delight. 
The  sort  of  joy  which  most  people  feel  only  in 
those  who  are  exceptionally  beautiful  or  splen- 
did Walt  Whitman  felt  in  almost  everybody. 
Out  of  this  universal  liking  grew  optimism, 
a  belief  in  democracy,  and  a  conviction  that  it  is 
easy  for  men  to  live  together  in  peace  and  amity. 
His  philosophy  and  politics,  like  Carlyle's,  were 
based  upon  his  instinctive  attitude  towards  ordi- 
nary men  and  women. 

There  is  no  objective  reason  to  be  given  to 
show  that  one  of  these  attitudes  is  essentially 
more  rational  than  the  other.  If  a  man  finds 
people  repulsive,  no  argument  can  prove  to  him 
that  they  are  not  so.  But  both  his  own  desires 
and  other  people's  are  much  more  likely  to  find 
satisfaction  if  he  resembles  Walt  Whitman 
than  if  he  resembles  Carlyle.  A  world  of 
Walt  Whitmans  would  be  happier  and  more 
capable  of  realizing  its  purposes  than  a  world  of 
Carlyles.     For  this  reason,  we  shall  desire,  if  we 


34  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

can,  to  increase  the  amount  of  instinctive  liking 
in  the  world  and  diminish  the  amount  of  in- 
stinctive aversion.  This  is  perhaps  the  most 
important  of  all  the  effects  by  which  political  in- 
stitutions ought  to  be  judged. 

The  other  source  of  good  relations  between  in- 
dividuals is  a  common  purpose,  especially  where 
that  purpose  cannot  be  achieved  without  know- 
ing its  cause.  Economic  organizations,  such  as 
unions  and  political  parties  are  constituted  al- 
most wholly  by  a  common  purpose ;  whatever  in- 
stinctive liking  may  come  to  be  associated  with 
them  is  the  result  of  the  common  purpose,  not 
its  cause.  Economic  organizations,  such  as  rail- 
way companies,  subsist  for  a  purpose,  but  this 
purpose  need  only  actually  exist  in  those  who 
direct  the  organization:  the  ordinary  wage- 
earner  need  have  no  purpose  beyond  earning  his 
wages.  This  is  a  defect  in  economic  organiza- 
tions, and  ought  to  be  remedied.  One  of  the  ob- 
jects of  syndicalism  is  to  remedy  this  defect. 

Marriage  is  (or  should  be)  based  on  instinc- 
tive liking,  but  as  soon  as  there  are  children,  or 
the  wish  for  children,  it  acquires  the  additional 
strength  of  a  common  purpose.  It  is  this  chiefly 
which  distinguishes  it  from  an  irregular  connec- 
tion not  intended  to  lead  to  children.     Often,  in 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OP  GROWTH       35 

fact,  the  common  purpose  survives,  and  remains 
a  strong  tie,  after  the  instinctive  liking  has 
faded. 

A  nation,  when  it  is  real  and  not  artificial,  is 
founded  upon  a  faint  degree  of  instinctive  liking 
for  compatriots  and  a  common  instinctive  aver- 
sion from  foreigners.  When  an  Englishman  re- 
turns to  Dover  or  Folkestone  after  being  on 
the  Continent,  he  feels  something  friendly  in  the 
familiar  ways :  the  casual  porters,  the  shouting 
paper  boys,  the  women  serving  bad  tea,  all  warm 
his  heart,  and  seem  more  *' natural,"  more  what 
human  beings  ought  to  be,  than  the  foreigners 
with  their  strange  habits  of  behavior.  He  is 
ready  to  believe  that  all  English  people  are  good 
souls,  while  many  foreigners  are  full  of  design- 
ing wickedness.  It  is  such  feelings  that  make 
it  easy  to  organize  a  nation  into  a  governmental 
unit.  And  when  that  has  happened,  a  common 
purpose  is  added,  as  in  marriage.  Foreigners 
would  like  to  invade  our  country  and  lay  it 
waste,  to  kill  us  in  battle,  to  humble  our  pride. 
Those  who  cooperate  with  us  in  preventing  this 
disaster  are  our  friends,  and  their  cooperation 
intensifies  our  instinctive  liking.  But  common 
purposes  do  not  constitute  the  whole  source  of 
our  love  of  country :  allies,  even  of  long  stand- 


36  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ing,  do  not  call  out  the  same  feelings  as  are 
called  out  by  our  compatriots.  Instinctive  lik- 
ing, resulting  largely  from  similar  habits  and 
customs,  is  an  essential  element  in  patriotism, 
and,  indeed,  the  foundation  upon  which  the 
whole  feeling  rests. 

If  men's  natural  growth  is  to  be  promoted  and 
not  hindered  by  the  environment,  if  as  many  as 
possible  of  their  desires  and  needs  are  to  be 
satisfied,  political  institutions  must,  as  far  as 
possible,  embody  common  purposes  and  foster 
instinctive  liking.  These  two  objects  are  inter- 
connected, for  nothing  is  so  destructive  of  in- 
stinctive liking  as  thwarted  purposes  and  un- 
satisfied needs,  and  nothing  facilitates  cooper- 
ation for  common  purposes  so  much  as  instinc- 
tive liking.  When  a  man's  growth  is  unim- 
peded, his  self-respect  remains  intact,  and  he  is 
not  inclined  to  regard  others  as  his  enemies. 
But  when,  for  whatever  reason,  his  growth  is 
impeded,  or  he  is  compelled  to  grow  into  some 
twisted  and  unnatural  shape,  his  instinct  pre- 
sents the  environment  as  his  enemy,  and  he  be- 
comes filled  with  hatred.  The  joy  of  life  aban- 
dons him,  and  malevolence  takes  the  place  of 
friendliness.  The  malevolence  of  hunchbacks 
and    cripples    is    proverbial;    and    a    similar 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH      37 

malevolence  is  to  be  found  in  those  who  have 
been  crippled  in  less  obvious  ways.  Real  free- 
dom, if  it  could  be  brought  about,  would  go  a 
long  way  towards  destroying  hatred. 

There  is  a  not  uncommon  belief  that  what  is 
instinctive  in  us  cannot  be  changed,  but  must 
be  simply  accepted  and  made  the  best  of.  This 
is  by  no  means  the  case.  No  doubt  we  have  a 
certain  native  disposition,  different  in  different 
people,  which  cooperates  with  outside  circum- 
stances in  producing  a  certain  character.  But 
even  the  instinctive  part  of  our  character  is  very 
malleable.  It  may  be  changed  by  beliefs,  by 
material  circumstances,  by  social  circumstances, 
and  by  institutions.  A  Dutchman  has  probably 
much  the  same  native  disposition  as  a  German, 
but  his  instincts  in  adult  life  are  very  different 
owing  to  the  absence  of  militarism  and  of  the 
pride  of  a  Great  Power.  It  is  obvious  that  the 
instincts  of  celibates  become  profoundly  differ- 
ent from  those  of  other  men  and  women.  Al- 
most any  instinct  is  capable  of  many  different 
forms  according  to  the  nature  of  the  outlets 
which  it  finds.  The  same  instinct  which  leads  to 
artistic  or  intellectual  creativeness  may,  under 
other  circumstances,  lead  to  love  of  war.  The 
fact  that  an  activity  or  belief  is  an  outcome  of 


38  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

instinct  is  therefore  no  reason  for  regarding  it 
as  unalterable. 

This  applies  to  people's  instinctive  likes  and 
dislikes  as  well  as  to  their  other  instincts.  It 
is  natural  to  men,  as  to  other  animals,  to  like 
some  of  their  species  and  dislike  others;  but 
the  proportion  of  like  and  dislike  depends  on 
circumstances,  often  on  quite  trivial  circum- 
stances. Most  of  Carlyle's  misanthropy  is  at- 
tributable to  dyspepsia;  probably  a  suitable 
medical  regimen  would  have  given  him  a  com- 
pletely different  outlook  on  the  world.  The  de- 
fect of  punishment,  as  a  means  of  dealing  with 
impulses  which  the  community  wishes  to  dis- 
courage, is  that  it  does  nothing  to  prevent  the 
existence  of  the  impulses,  but  merely  endeavors 
to  check  their  indulgence  by  an  appeal  to  self- 
interest.  This  method,  since  it  does  not  eradi- 
cate the  impulses,  probably  only  drives  them  to 
find  other  outlets  even  when  it  is  successful  in 
its  immediate  object;  and  if  the  impulses  are 
strong,  mere  self-interest  is  not  likely  to  curb 
them  effectually,  since  it  is  not  a  very  powerful 
motive  except  with  unusually  reasonable  and 
rather  passionless  people.  It  is  thought  to  be 
a  stronger  motive  than  it  is,  because  our  moods 
make  us  deceive  ourselves  as  to  our  interest,  and 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH       39 

lead  us  to  believe  that  it  is  consistent  with  the 
actions  to  which  we  are  prompted  by  desire  or 
impulse. 

Thus  the  commonplace  that  human  nature 
cannot  be  changed  is  untrue.  We  all  know  that 
our  ow^n  characters  and  those  of  our  acquaint- 
ance are  greatly  affected  by  circumstances ;  and 
what  is  true  of  individuals  is  true  also  of  na- 
tions. The  root  causes  of  changes  in  average 
human  nature  are  generally  either  purely  ma- 
terial changes — for  instance,  of  climate — or 
changes  in  the  degree  of  man's  control  over  the 
material  world.  We  may  ignore  the  purely  ma- 
terial changes,  since  these  do  not  much  concern 
the  politician.  But  the  changes  due  to  man's 
increased  control  over  the  material  world,  by 
inventions  and  science,  are  of  profound  present 
importance.  Through  the  industrial  revolution, 
they  have  radically  altered  the  daily  lives  of 
men;  and  by  creating  huge  economic  organiza- 
tions, they  have  altered  the  whole  structure  of 
society.  The  general  beliefs  of  men,  which  are, 
in  the  main,  a  product  of  instinct  and  circum- 
stance, have  become  very  different  from  what 
they  were  in  the  eighteenth  century.  But  our 
institutions  are  not  yet  suited  either  to  the  in- 
stincts developed  by  our  new  circumstances,  or 


40  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

to  our  real  beliefs.  Institutions  have  a  life  of 
their  own,  and  often  outlast  the  circumstances 
which  made  them  a  fit  garment  for  instinct. 
This  applies,  in  varying  degrees,  to  almost  all 
the  institutions  which  we  have  inherited  from 
the  past :  the  State,  private  property,  the  patri- 
archal family,  the  Churches,  armies  and  navies. 
All  of  these  have  become  in  some  degree  oppres- 
sive, in  some  measures  hostile  to  life. 

In  any  serious  attempt  at  political  recon- 
struction, it  is  necessary  to  realize  what  are  the 
vital  needs  of  ordinary  men  and  women.  It  is 
customary,  in  political  thought,  to  assume  that 
the  only  needs  with  which  politics  is  concerned 
are  economic  needs.  This  view  is  quite  inade- 
quate to  account  for  such  an  event  as  the  pres- 
ent war,  since  any  economic  motives  that  may  be 
assigned  for  it  are  to  a  great  extent  mythical, 
and  its  true  causes  must  be  sought  for  outside 
the  economic  sphere.  Needs  which  are  nor- 
mally satisfied  without  conscious  effort  remain 
unrecognized,  and  this  results  in  a  working 
theory  of  human  needs  which  is  far  too  simple. 
Owing  chiefly  to  industrialism,  many  needs 
which  were  formerly  satisfied  without  effort 
now  remain  unsatisfied  in  most  men  and  women. 
But  the  old  unduly  simple  theory  of  human 


THE  PRINCIPLE  OF  GROWTH      41 

needs  survives,  making  men  overlook  the  source 
of  the  new  lack  of  satisfaction,  and  invent  quite 
false  theories  as  to  why  they  are  dissatisfied. 
Socialism  as  a  panacea  seems  to  me  to  be  mis- 
taken in  this  way,  since  it  is  too  ready  to  sup- 
pose that  better  economic  conditions  will  of 
themselves  make  men  happy.  It  is  not  only 
more  material  goods  that  men  need,  but  more 
freedom,  more  self-direction,  more  outlet  for 
creativeness,  more  opportunity  for  the  joy  of 
life,  more  voluntary  cooperation,  and  less  in- 
voluntary subservience  to  purposes  not  their 
own.  All  these  things  the  institutions  of  the 
future  must  help  to  produce,  if  our  increase  of 
knowledge  and  power  over  Nature  is  to  bear  its 
full  fruit  in  bringing  about  a  good  life. 


n 

THE  STATE 

UNDER  the  influence  of  socialism,  most 
liberal  thought  in  recent  years  has  been 
in  favor  of  increasing  the  power  of  the  State, 
but  more  or  less  hostile  to  the  power  of  private 
property.  On  the  other  hand,  syndicalism  has 
been  hostile  both  to  the  State  and  to  private 
property.  I  believe  that  syndicalism  is  more 
nearly  right  than  socialism  in  this  respect,  that 
both  private  property  and  the  State,  which  are 
the  two  most  powerful  institutions  of  the 
modem  world,  have  become  harmful  to  life 
through  excess  of  power,  and  that  both  are 
hastening  the  loss  of  vitality  from  which  the 
civilized  world  increasingly  suffers.  The  two 
institutions  are  closely  connected,  but  for  the 
present  I  wish  to  consider  only  the  State.  I 
shall  trj^  to  show  how  great,  how  unnecessary, 
how  harmful,  many  of  its  powers  are,  and  how 
enormously  they  might  be  diminished  without 
loss  of  what  is  useful  in  its  activity.    But  I  shall 

42 


THE  STATE  43 

admit  that  in  certain  directions  its  functions 
ought  to  be  extended  rather  than  curtailed. 

Some  of  the  functions  of  the  State,  such  as 
the  Post  Office  and  elementary  education,  might 
be  performed  by  private  agencies,  and  are  only 
undertaken  by  the  State  from  motives  of  con- 
venience. But  other  matters,  such  as  the  law, 
the  police,  the  Army,  and  the  Navy,  belong  more 
essentially  to  the  State :  so  long  as  there  is  a 
State  at  all  it  is  difficult  to  imagine  these  mat- 
ters in  private  hands.  The  distinction  between 
socialism  and  individualism  turns  on  the  non- 
essential functions  of  the  State,  which  the  social- 
ist wishes  to  extend  and  the  individualist  to  re- 
strict. It  is  the  essential  functions,  which 
are  admitted  by  individualists  and  socialists 
alike,  that  I  wish  to  criticize,  since  the  others 
do  not  appear  to  me  in  themselves  objection- 
able. 

The  essence  of  the.  State  is  that  it  is  the 
repository  of  the  collective  force  of  its  citizens. 
This  force  takes  two  forms,  one  internal  and 
one  external.  The  internal  form  is  the  law  and 
the  police;  the  external  form  is  the  power  of 
waging  war,  as  embodied  in  the  Army  and  Navy. 
The  State  is  constituted  by  the  combination 
of  all  the  inhabitants  in  a  certain  area  using 


44  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

their  united  force  in  accordance  with  the  com- 
mands of  a  Government.  In  a  civilized  State 
force  is  only  employed  against  its  own  citizens 
in  accordance  with  rules  previously  laid  down, 
which  constitute  the  criminal  law.  But  the  em- 
ployment of  force  against  foreigners  is  not  regu- 
lated by  any  code  of  rules,  and  proceeds,  with 
few  exceptions,  according  to  some  real  or  fan- 
cied national  interest. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  force  employed 
according  to  law  is  less  pernicious  than  force 
employed  capriciously.  If  international  law 
could  acquire  sufficient  hold  on  men's  alle- 
giance to  regulate  the  relations  of  States,  a  very 
great  advance  on  our  present  condition  would 
have  been  made.  The  primitive  anarchy  which 
precedes  law  is  worse  than  law.  But  I  believe 
there  is  a  possibility  of  a  stage  to  some  extent 
above  law,  where  the  advantages  now  secured 
by  the  law  are  secured  without  loss  of  freedom, 
and  without  the  disadvantages  which  the  law 
and  the  police  render  inevitable.  Probably 
some  repository  of  force  in  the  background  will 
remain  necessary,  but  the  actual  employment 
of  force  may  become  very  rare,  and  the  degree 
of  force  required  very  small.  The  anarchy 
which  precedes  law  gives  freedom  only  to  the 


THE  STATE  45 

strong;  the  condition  to  be  aimed  at  will  give 
freedom  as  nearly  as  possible  to  every  one.  It 
will  do  this,  not  by  preventing  altogether  the 
existence  of  organized  force,  but  by  limiting  the 
occasions  for  its  employment  to  the  greatest 
possible  extent. 

The  power  of  the  State  is  only  limited  inter- 
nally by  the  fear  of  rebellion  and  externally 
by  the  fear  of  defeat  in  war.  Subject  to  these 
restrictions,  it  is  absolute.  In  practice,  it  can 
seize  men's  property  through  taxation,  deter- 
mine the  law  of  marriage  and  inheritance,  pun- 
ish the  expression  of  opinions  which  it  dislikes, 
put  men  to  death  for  wishing  the  region  they 
inhabit  to  belong  to  a  different  State,  and  order 
all  able-bodied  males  to  risk  their  lives  in  bat- 
tle whenever  it  considers  war  desirable.  On 
many  matters  disagreement  with  the  purposes 
and  opinions  of  the  State  is  criminal.  Prob- 
ably the  freest  States  in  the  world,  before  the 
war,  were  America  and  England ;  yet  in  Amer- 
ica no  immigrant  may  land  until  he  has  pro- 
fessed disbelief  in  anarchism  and  polygamy, 
while  in  England  men  were  sent  to  prison  in 
recent  years  for  expressing  disagreement  with 
the  Christian  religion  ^  or  agreement  with  the 

1  The  blasphemy  prosecutions. 


46  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

teaching  of  Christ.^  In  time  of  war,  all  criti- 
cism of  the  external  policy  of  the  State  is  crim- 
inal. Certain  objects  having  appeared  desir- 
able to  the  majority,  or  to  the  effective  holders 
of  power,  those  who  do  not  consider  these  ob- 
jects desirable  are  exposed  to  pains  and  penal- 
ties not  unlike  those  suffered  by  heretics  in  the 
past.  The  extent  of  the  tyranny  thus  exer- 
cised is  concealed  by  its  very  success :  few  men 
consider  it  worth  while  to  incur  a  persecution 
which  is  almost  certain  to  be  thorough  and  ef- 
fective. 

Universal  military  service  is  perhaps  the  ex- 
treme example  of  the  power  of  the  State,  and 
the  supreme  illustration  of  the  difference  be- 
tween its  attitude  to  its  own  citizens  and  its  at- 
titude to  the  citizens  of  other  States.  The  State 
punishes,  with  impartial  rigor,  both  those  who 
kill  their  compatriots  and  those  who  refuse  to 
kill  foreigners.  On  the  whole,  the  latter  is  con- 
sidered the  graver  crime.  The  phenomenon  of 
war  is  familiar,  and  men  fail  to  realize  its 
strangeness ;  to  those  who  stand  inside  the  cycle 
of  instincts  which  lead  to  war  it  all  seems  nat- 
ural and  reasonable.    But  to  those  who  stand 

1  The  Bvndicalist  prosecutions.  [The  punishment  of  con- 
scientious objectors  must  now  be  added,  1916.] 


THE  STATE  47 

outside  the  strangeness  of  it  grows  with  famil- 
iarity. It  is  amazing  that  the  vast  majority  of 
men  should  tolerate  a  system  which  compels 
them  to  submit  to  all  the  horrors  of  the  battle- 
field at  any  moment  when  their  Government 
commands  them  to  do  so.  A  French  artist,  in- 
different to  politics,  attentive  only  to  his  paint- 
ing, suddenly  finds  himself  called  upon  to  shoot 
Germans,  who,  his  friends  assure  him,  are  a 
disgrace  to  the  human  race.  A  German  mu- 
sician, equally  unknowing,  is  called  upon  to 
shoot  the  perfidious  Frenchman.  Why  cannot 
the  two  men  declare  a  mutual  neutrality!  Why 
not  leave  war  to  those  who  like  it  and  bring  it 
on?  Yet  if  the  two  men  declared  a  mutual  neu- 
trality they  would  be  shot  by  their  compatriots. 
To  avoid  this  fate  they  try  to  shoot  each  other. 
If  the  world  loses  the  artist,  not  the  musician, 
Germany  rejoices;  if  the  world  loses  the  musi- 
cian, not  the  artist,  France  rejoices.  No  one 
remembers  the  loss  to  civilization,  which  is 
equal  whichever  is  killed. 

This  is  the  politics  of  Bedlam.  If  the  artist 
and  the  musician  had  been  allowed  to  stand 
aside  from  the  war,  nothing  but  unmitigated 
good  to  mankind  would  have  resulted.  The 
power  of  the  State,  which  makes  this  impossi- 


48  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ble,  is  a  wholly  evil  thing,  quite  as  evil  as  the 
power  of  the  Church  which  in  former  days  put 
men  to  death  for  unorthodox  thought.  Yet  if, 
even  in  time  of  peace,  an  international  league 
were  founded  to  consist  of  Frenchmen  and  Ger- 
mans in  equal  numbers,  all  pledged  not  to  take 
part  in  war,  the  French  State  and  the  German 
State  would  persecute  it  with  equal  ferocity. 
Blind  obedience,  unlimited  willingness  to  kill 
and  die  are  exacted  of  the  modern  citizens  of  a 
democracy  as  much  as  of  the  Janizaries  of  medi- 
eval sultans  or  the  secret  agents  of  Oriental 
despots.^ 

The  power  of  the  State  may  be  brought  to 
bear,  as  it  often  is  in  England,  through  public 
opinion  rather  than  through  the  laws.  By  ora- 
tory and  the  influence  of  the  Press,  public  opin- 
ion is  largely  created  by  the  State,  and  a  tyran- 
nous public  opinion  is  as  great  an  enemy  to 
liberty  as  tyrannous  laws.  If  the  young  man 
who  will  not  fight  finds  that  he  is  dismissed  from 
his  employment,  insulted  in  the  streets,  cold- 
shouldered  by  his  friends,  and  thrown  over  with 
scorn  by  any  woman  who  may  formerly  have 

1  In  a  democratic  country  it  is  the  majority  who  must  after 
all  rule,  and  the  minority  will  be  obliged  to  submit  with  the 
best  grace  possible  {Westminster  Gazette  on  Conscription, 
December  29,  1915). 


THE  STATE  49 

liked  him,  lie  will  feel  the  penalty  quite  as  hard 
to  bear  as  a  death  sentence.^  A  free  commun- 
ity requires  not  only  legal  freedom,  but  a  tol- 
erant public  opinion,  an  absence  of  that  instinc- 
tive inquisition  into  our  neighbors'  affairs 
which,  under  the  guise  of  upholding  a  high 
moral  standard,  enables  good  people  to  indulge 

1  Some  very  strong  remarks  on  the  conduct  of  the  "white 
feather"  women  were  made  by  Mr.  Reginald  Kemp,  the  Deputy 
Coroner  for  West  Middlesex,  at  an  inquest  at  Ealing  on  Satur- 
day on  Richard  Charles  Roberts,  aged  thirty-four,  a  taxicub 
driver,  of  Shepherd's  Bush,  who  committed  suicide  in  conse- 
quence of  worry  caused  by  his  rejection  from  the  Army  and 
the  taunts  of  women  and  other  amateur  recruiters. 

It  was  stated  that  he  tried  to  join  the  Army  in  October, 
but  was  rejected  on  account  of  a  weak  heart.  That  alone,  said 
his  widow,  had  depressed  him,  and  he  had  been  worried  be- 
cause he  thought  he  would  lose  his  license  owing  to  the  state 
of  his  heart.  He  had  also  been  troubled  by  the  dangerous 
illness  of  a  child. 

A  soldier  relative  said  that  the  deceased's  life  had  been  made 
"a  perfect  misery"  by  women  who  taunted  him  and  called  him 
a  coward  because  he  did  not  join  the  Army.  A  few  days  ago 
two  women  in  Maida  Vale  insulted  him  "something  shocking." 

Tlie  Coroner,  speaking  with  some  warmth,  said  the  conduct 
of  such  women  was  abominable.  It  was  scandalous  that  women 
who  knew  nothing  of  individual  circumstances  sliould  be 
allowed  to  go  about  making  unbearable  the  lives  of  men  who 
had  tried  to  do  their  duty.  It  waa  a  pity  they  had  nothing 
better  to  do.  Here  was  a  man  who  perhaps  had  been  driven 
to  death  by  a  pack  of  silly  women.  He  hoped  something  would 
soon  be  done  to  put  a  stop  to  such  conduct  {Daily  News, 
July  26,  1915). 


50  WPIY  MEN  FIGHT 

unconsciously  a  disposition  to  cruelty  and  per- 
secution. Thinking  ill  of  others  is  not  in  itself 
a  good  reason  for  thinking  well  of  ourselves. 
But  so  long  as  this  is  not  recognized,  and  so 
long  as  the  State  can  manufacture  public  opin- 
ion, except  in  the  rare  cases  where  it  is  revo- 
lutionary, public  opinion  must  be  reckoned  as  a 
definite  part  of  the  power  of  the  State. 

The  power  of  the  State  outside  its  own  bor- 
ders is  in  the  main  derived  from  war  or  the 
threat  of  war.  Some  power  is  derived  from  the 
ability  to  persuade  its  citizens  to  lend  money  or 
not  to  lend  it,  but  this  is  unimportant  in  com- 
parison with  the  power  derived  from  armies 
and  navies.  The  external  activity  of  the  State 
— with  exceptions  so  rare  as  to  be  negligible — 
is  selfish.  Sometimes  selfishness  is  mitigated 
by  the  need  of  retaining  the  goodwill  of  other 
States,  but  this  onh^  modifies  the  methods  em- 
ployed, not  the  ends  pursued.  The  ends  pur- 
sued, apart  from  mere  defense  against  other 
States,  are,  on  the  one  hand,  opportunities  for 
successful  exploitation  of  weak  or  uncivilized 
countries,  on  the  other  hand,  power  and  pres- 
tige, which  are  considered  more  glorious  and 
less  material  than  money.  In  pursuit  of  these 
objects,  no  State  hesitates  to  put  to  death  in- 


THE  STATE  51 

numerable  foreigners  whose  happiness  is  not 
compatible  with  exploitation  or  subjection,  or 
to  devastate  territories  into  which  it  is  thought 
necessary  to  strike  terror.  Apart  from  the 
present  war,  such  acts  have  been  performed 
within  the  last  twenty  years  by  many  minor 
States  and  by  all  the  Great  Powers  ^  except  Aus- 
tria ;  and  in  the  case  of  Austria  only  the  oppor- 
tunity, not  the  will,  was  lacking. 

Why  do  men  acquiesce  in  the  power  of  the 
State?  There  are  many  reasons,  some  tradi- 
tional, some  very  present  and  pressing. 

The^raditional  reason  for  obedience  to  the 
State  is  personal  loyalty  to  the  sovereign.  Eu- 
ropean States  grew  up  under  the  feudal  sys- 
tem, and  were  originally  the  several  territories 
owTied  by  feudal  chiefs.  But  this  source  of 
obedience  has  decayed,  and  probably  now 
counts  for  little  except  in  Japan,  and  to  a  lesser 
extent  in  Russia. 

Tribal  feeling,  which  always  underlay  loyalty 
to  the  sovereign,  has  remained  as  strong  as  it 
ever  was,  and  is  now  the  chief  support  for  the 
power  of  the  State.     Almost  every  man  finds 

1  By  Enprland  in  South  Africa.  Amorioa  in  the  Pliilippinos, 
France  in  Morocco,  Italy  in  Tripoli,  Germany  in  Southwest 
Africa,  Russia  in  Persia  and  Manchuria,  Japan  in  Manchuria. 


52  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

it  essential  to  his  liappiness  to  feel  himself  a 
member  of  a  group,  animated  by  common  friend- 
ships and  enmities  and  banded  together  for  de- 
fense and  attack.  But  such  groups  are  of  two 
kinds :  there  are  those  which  are  essentially  en- 
largements of  the  family,  and  there  are  those 
which  are  based  upon  a  conscious  common  pur- 
pose. Nations  belong  to  the  first  kind. 
Churches  to  the  second.  At  times  when  men 
are  profoundly  swayed  by  creeds  national  di- 
visions tend  to  break  down,  as  they  did  in  the 
wars  of  religion  after  the  Eeformation.  At 
such  times  a  common  creed  is  a  stronger  bond 
than  a  common  nationality.  To  a  much  slighter 
extent,  the  same  thing  has  occurred  in  the  mod- 
ern world  with  the  rise  of  socialism.  Men  who 
disbelieve  in  private  property,  and  feel  the  cap- 
italist the  real  enemy,  have  a  bond  which 
transcends  national  divisions.  It  has  not  been 
found  strong  enough  to  resist  the  passions 
aroused  by  the  present  war,  but  it  has  made 
them  less  bitter  among  socialists  than  among 
others,  and  has  kept  alive  the  hope  of  a  Euro- 
pean community  to  be  reconstructed  when  the 
war  is  over.  In  the  main,  however,  the  uni- 
versal disbelief  in  creeds  has  left  tribal  feeling 
triumphant,  and  has  made  nationalism  stronger 


THE  STATE  53 

than  at  any  previous  period  of  the  world's  his- 
tory. A  few  sincere  Christians,  a  few  sincere 
socialists,  have  found  in  their  creed  a  force  ca- 
pable of  resisting  the  assaults  of  national  pas- 
sion, but  they  have  been  too  few  to  influence 
the  course  of  events  or  even  to  cause  serious 
anxiety  to  the  Governments. 

It  is  chiefly  tribal  feeling  that  generates  the 
unity  of  a  national  State,  but  it  is  not  only 
tribal  feeling  that  generates  its  strength.  Its 
strength  results  principally  from  two  fears, 
neither  of  which  is  unreasonable:  the  fear  of 
crime  and  anarchy  within,  and  the  fear  of  ag- 
gression from  without. 

The  internal  orderliness  of  a  civilized  com- 
munity is  a  great  achievement,  chiefly  brought 
about  by  the  increased  authority  of  the  State. 
It  would  be  inconvenient  if  peaceable  citizens 
were  constantly  in  imminent  risk  of  being 
robbed  and  murdered.  Civilized  life  would  be- 
come almost  impossible  if  adventurous  people 
could  organize  private  armies  for  purposes  of 
plunder.  These  conditions  existed  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  and  have  not  passed  away  without  a 
great  struggle.  It  is  thought  by  many — espe- 
cially by  the  rich,  who  derive  the  greatest  ad- 
vantage from  law  and  order — that  any  diminu- 


54  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

tion  in  the  power  of  the  State  might  bring  back 
a  condition  of  universal  anarchy.  They  regard 
strikes  as  portents  of  dissolution.  They  are 
terrified  by  such  organizations  as  the  Confe- 
deration Generale  du  Travail  and  the  Interna- 
tional Workers  of  the  World.  They  remember 
the  French  Eevolution,  and  feel  a  not  unnat- 
ural desire  to  keep  their  heads  on  their  shoul- 
ders. They  dread  particularly  any  political 
theory  which  seems  to  excuse  private  crimes, 
such  as  sabotage  and  political  assassination. 
Against  these  dangers  they  see  no  protection 
except  the  maintenance  of  the  authority  of  the 
State,  and  the  belief  that  all  resistance  to  the 
State  is  wicked. 

Fear  of  the  danger  within  is  enhanced  by 
fear  of  the  danger  without.  Every  State  is 
exposed  at  all  times  to  the  risk  of  foreign  in- 
vasion. No  means  has  hitherto  been  devised 
for  minimizing  this  risk  except  the  increase  of 
armaments.  But  the  armaments  which  are 
nominally  intended  to  repel  invasion  may  also 
be  used  to  invade.  And  so  the  means  adopted 
to  diminish  the  external  fear  have  the  effect  of 
increasing  it,  and  of  enormously  enhancing  the 
destructiveness  of  war  when  it  does  break  out. 
In  this  way  a  reign  of  terror  becomes  univer- 


THE  STATE  55 

sal,  and  the  State  acquires  everywhere  some- 
thing of  the  character  of  the  Comite  du  Salut 
Public. 

The  tribal  feeling  out  of  which  the  State  de- 
velops is  natural,  and  the  fear  by  which  the 
State  is  strengthened  is  reasonable  under  pres- 
ent circumstances.  And  in  addition  to  these 
two,  there  is  a  third  source  of  strength  in  a  na- 
tional State,  namely  patriotism  in  its  religious 
aspect. 

Patriotism  is  a  very  complex  feeling,  built 
up  out  of  primitive  instincts  and  highly  intel- 
lectual convictions.  There  is  love  of  home  and 
family  and  friends,  making  us  peculiarly  anx- 
ious to  preserve  our  own  country  from  invasion. 
There  is  the  mild  instinctive  liking  for  com- 
patriots as  against  foreigners.  There  is  pride, 
which  is  bound  up  with  the  success  of  the  com- 
munity to  which  we  feel  that  we  belong.  There 
is  a  belief,  suggested  by  pride  but  reinforced 
by  history,  that  one's  own  nation  represents  a 
great  tradition  and  stands  for  ideals  that  are 
important  to  the  human  race.  But  besides  all 
these,  there  is  another  element,  at  once  nobler 
and  more  open  to  attack,  an  element  of  worship, 
of  willing  sacrifice,  of  joyful  merging  of  the  in- 
dividual life  in  the  life  of  the  nation.     This  re- 


56  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ligious  element  in  patriotism  is  essential  to  the 
strength  of  the  State,  since  it  enlists  the  best 
that  is  in  most  men  on  the  side  of  national  sac- 
rifice. 

The  religious  element  in  patriotism  is  rein- 
forced by  education,  especially  by  a  knowledge 
of  the  history  and  literature  of  one's  own  coun- 
try, provided  it  is  not  accompanied  by  much 
knowledge  of  the  history  and  literature  of  other 
countries.  In  every  civilized  country  all  in- 
struction of  the  young  emphasizes  the  merits 
of  their  own  nation  and  the  faults  of  other  na- 
tions. It  comes  to  be  universally  believed  that 
one 's  own  nation,  because  of  its  superiority,  de- 
serves support  in  a  quarrel,  however  the  quar- 
rel may  have  originated.  This  belief  is  so  gen- 
uine and  deep  that  it  makes  men  endure  pa- 
tiently, almost  gladly,  the  losses  and  hardships 
and  sufferings  entailed  by  war.  Like  all  sin- 
cerely believed  religions,  it  gives  an  outlook  on 
life,  based  upon  instinct  but  sublimating  it, 
causing  a  devotion  to  an  end  greater  than  any 
personal  end,  but  containing  many  personal 
ends  as  it  were  in  solution. 

Patriotism  as  a  religion  is  unsatisfactory  be- 
cause of  its  lack  of  universality.  The  good  at 
which  it  aims  is  a  good  for  one's  own  nation 


THE  STATE  57 

only,  not  for  all  mankind.  The  desires  which 
it  inspires  in  an  Englishman  are  not  the  same 
as  the  desires  which  it  inspires  in  a  German.  A 
world  full  of  patriots  may  be  a  world  full  of 
strife.  The  more  intensely  a  nation  believes 
in  its  patriotism,  the  more  fanatically  indiffer- 
ent it  will  become  to  the  damage  suffered  by 
other  nations.  When  once  men  have  learnt  to 
subordinate  their  own  good  to  the  good  of  a 
larger  whole,  there  can  be  no  valid  reason  for 
stopping  short  of  the  human  race.  It  is  the  ad- 
mixture of  national  pride  that  makes  it  so  easy 
in  practice  for  men's  impulses  towards  sacrifice 
to  stop  short  at  the  frontiers  of  their  own  coun- 
try. It  is  this  admixture  that  poisons  patriot- 
ism, and  makes  it  inferior,  as  a  religion,  to  be- 
liefs which  aim  at  the  salvation  of  all  mankind. 
We  cannot  avoid  having  more  love  for  our  own 
country  than  for  other  countries,  and  there  is 
no  reason  why  we  should  wish  to  avoid  it,  any 
more  than  we  should  wish  to  love  all  individual 
men  and  women  equally.  But  any  adequate  re- 
ligion will  lead  us  to  temper  inequality  of  af- 
fection by  love  of  justice,  and  to  universalize 
our  aims  by  realizing  the  common  needs  of  man. 
This  change  was  effected  by  Christianity  in 
Judaism,  and  must  be  effected  in  any  merely  na- 


58  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

tional  religion  before  it  can  be  purged  of  eviL 
In  practice,  patriotism  has  many  other  ene- 
mies to  contend  with.  Cosnropolitanism  can- 
not fail  to  grow  as  men  acquire  more  knowledge 
of  foreign  countries  by  education  and  travel. 
There  is  also  a  kind  of  individualism  which  is 
continually  increasing,  a  realization  that  every 
man  ought  to  be  as  nearly  free  as  possible  to 
choose  his  own  ends,  not  compelled  by  a  geo- 
graphical accident  to  pursue  ends  forced  upon 
him  by  the  community.  Socialism,  syndicalism, 
and  anti-capitalist  movements  generally,  are 
against  patriotism  in  their  tendency,  since  they 
make  men  aware  that  the  present  State  is 
largely  concerned  in  defending  the  privileges 
of  the  rich,  and  that  many  of  the  conflicts  be- 
tween States  have  their  origin  in  the  financial 
interests  of  a  few  plutocrats.  This  kind  of  op- 
position is  perhaps  temporary,  a  mere  incident 
in  the  struggle  of  labor  to  acquire  power. 
Australia,  where  labor  feels  its  triumph  secure, 
is  full  of  patriotism  and  militarism,  based  upon 
determination  to  prevent  foreign  labor  from 
sharing  the  benefits  of  a  privileged  position.  It 
is  not  unlikely  that  England  might  develop  a 
similar  nationalism  if  it  became  a  socialist 
State.    But  it  is  probable  that  such  nationalism 


THE  STATE  59 

would  be  purely  defensive.  Schemes  of  foreign 
'aggression,  entailing  great  loss  of  life  and 
wealth  in  the  nation  which  adopts  them,  would 
hardly  be  initiated  except  by  those  whose  in- 
stincts of  dominion  have  been  sharpened 
through  the  power  derived  from  private  prop- 
erty and  the  institutions  of  the  capitalist  State. 

The  evil  wrought  in  the  modern  world  by  the 
excessive  power  of  the  State  is  very  great,  and 
very  little  recognized. 

The  chief  harm  wrought  by  the  State  is  pro- 
motion of  efficiency  in  war.  If  all  States  in- 
crease their  strength,  the  balance  of  power  is 
unchanged,  and  no  one  State  has  a  better  chance 
of  victory  than  before.  And  when  the  means  of 
offense  exist,  even  though  their  original  pur- 
pose may  have  been  defensive,  the  temptation 
to  use  them  is  likely,  sooner  or  later,  to  prove 
ovei'whelming.  In  this  way  the  very  measures 
which  promoted  security  within  the  borders  of 
the  State  promote  insecurity  elsewhere.  It  is 
of  the  essence  of  the  State  to  suppress  violence 
within  and  to  facilitate  it  w^ithout.  The  State 
makes  an  entirely  artificial  division  of  mankind 
and  of  our  duties  toward  them:  towards  one 
group  we  are  bound  by  the  law,  towards  the 
other  only  by  the  prudence  of  highwaymen. 


60  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

The  State  is  rendered  evil  by  its  exclusions,  and 
by  the  fact  that,  whenever  it  embarks  upon  ag- 
gressive war,  it  becomes  a  combination  of  men 
for  murder  and  robbery.  The  present  system 
is  irrational,  since  external  and  internal  anar- 
chy must  be  both  right  or  both  wrong.  It  is 
supported  because,  so  long  as  others  adopt  it, 
it  is  thought  the  only  road  to  safety,  and  be- 
cause it  secures  the  pleasures  of  triumph  and 
dominion,  which  cannot  be  obtained  in  a  good 
community.  If  these  pleasures  were  no  longer 
sought,  or  no  longer  possible  to  obtain,  the  prob- 
lem of  securing  safety  from  invasion  would  not 
be  difficult. 

Apart  from  war,  the  modem  great  State  is 
harmful  from  its  vastness  and  the  resulting 
sense  of  individual  helplessness.  The  citizen 
who  is  out  of  sympathy  with  the  aims  of  the 
State,  unless  he  is  a  man  of  very  rare  gifts,  can- 
not hope  to  persuade  the  State  to  adopt  pur- 
poses which  seem  to  him  better.  Even  in  a 
democracy,  all  questions  except  a  very  few  are 
decided  by  a  small  number  of  officials  and  emi- 
nent men ;  and  even  the  few  questions  which  are 
left  to  the  popular  vote  are  decided  by  a  dif- 
fused mass-psychology,  not  by  individual  initia- 
tive.   This  is  especially  noticeable  in  a  country 


THE  STATE  61 

like  the  United  States,  where,  in  spite  of  de- 
mocracy,  most  men  have  a  sense  of  almost  com- 
plete impotence  in  regard  to  all  large  issues. 
In  so  vast  a  country  the  popular  will  is  like  one 
of  the  forces  of  Nature,  and  seems  nearly  as 
much  outside  the  control  of  any  one  man.  This 
state  of  things  leads,  not  only  in  America  but 
in  all  large  States,  to  something  of  the  weari- 
ness and  discouragement  that  we  associate  with 
the  Eoman  Empire.  Modern  States,  as  op- 
posed to  the  small  city  States  of  ancient  Greece 
or  medieval  Italy,  leave  little  room  for  initia- 
tive, and  fail  to  develop  in  most  men  any  sense 
of  ability  to  control  their  political  destinies. 
The  few  men  who  achieve  power  in  such  States 
are  men  of  abnormal  ambition  and  thirst  for 
dominion,  combined  with  skill  in  cajolery  and 
subtlety  in  negotiation.  All  the  rest  are 
dwarfed  by  knowledge  of  their  own  impotence. 
A  curious  survival  from  the  old  monarchical 
idea  of  the  State  is  the  belief  that  there  is  some 
peculiar  wickedness  in  a  wish  to  secede  on  the 
part  of  any  section  of  the  population.  If  Ire- 
land or  Poland  desires  independence,  it  is 
thought  obvious  that  this  desire  must  be  strenu- 
ously resisted,  and  any  attempt  to  secure  it  is 
condemned  as  ''high  treason."     The  only  in- 


62  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

stance  to  the  contrary  that  I  can  remember  is 
the  separation  of  Norway  and  Sweden,  which 
was  commended  but  not  imitated.  In  other 
cases,  nothing  but  defeat  in  war  has  induced 
States  to  part  with  territory:  although  this  at- 
titude is  taken  for  granted,  it  is  not  one  which 
would  be  adopted  if  the  State  had  better  ends 
in  view.  The  reason  for  its  adoption  is  that 
the  chief  end  of  almost  all  great  States  is  power, 
especially  power  in  war.  And  power  in  war  is 
often  increased  by  the  inclusion  of  unwilling 
citizens.  If  the  well-being  of  the  citizens  were 
the  end  in  view,  the  question  whether  a  certain 
area  should  be  included,  or  should  form  a  sepa- 
rate State,  would  be  left  freely  to  the  decision 
of  that  area.  If  this  principle  were  adopted, 
one  of  the  main  reasons  for  war  would  be  ob- 
viated, and  one  of  the  most  tyrannical  elements 
in  the  State  would  be  removed. 

The  principal  source  of  the  harm  done  by  the 
State  is  the  fact  that  power  is  its  chief  end. 
This  is  not  the  case  in  America,  because  Amer- 
ica is  safe  against  aggression ;  ^  but  in  aU  other 
great  nations  the  chief  aim  of  the  State  is  to 
possess  the  greatest  possible  amount  of  exter- 
nal force.    To  this  end,  the  liberty  of  the  citi- 

1  TMs  was  written  in  1915, 


THE  STATE  63 

zens  is  curtailed,  and  anti-militarist  propa- 
ganda is  severely  punished.  This  attitude  is 
rooted  in  pride  and  fear:  pride,  which  refuses 
to  be  conciliatory,  and  fear,  which  dreads  the 
results  of  foreign  pride  conflicting  with  our  own 
pride.  It  seems  something  of  a  historical  ac- 
cident that  these  two  passions,  which  by  no 
means  exhaust  the  political  passions  of  the  or- 
dinary man,  should  so  completely  determine  the 
external  policy  of  the  State.  Without  pride, 
there  would  be  no  occasion  for  fear:  fear  on 
the  part  of  one  nation  is  due  to  the  supposed 
pride  of  another  nation.  Pride  of  dominion, 
unwillingness  to  decide  disputes  otherwise  than 
by  force  or  the  threat  of  force,  is  a  habit  of 
mind  greatly  encouraged  by  the  possession  of 
power.  Those  who  have  long  been  in  the  habit 
of  exercising  power  become  autocratic  and  quar- 
relsome, incapable  of  regarding  an  equal  other- 
wise than  as  a  rival.  It  is  notorious  that  head 
masters'  conferences  are  more  liable  to  violent 
disagreements  than  most  similar  bodies:  each 
head  master  tries  to  treat  the  others  as  he  treats 
his  own  boys;  they  resent  such  treatment,  and 
he  resents  their  resentment.  Men  who  have  the 
habit  of  authority  are  peculiarly  unfit  for 
friendly  negotiation;  but  the  official  relations 


64  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

of  States  are  mainly  in  the  hands  of  men  with 
a  great  deal  of  authority  in  their  own  country. 
This  is,  of  course,  more  particularly  the  case 
where  there  is  a  monarch  who  actually  governs. 
It"  is  less  true  where  there  is  a  governing  oli- 
garchy, and  still  less  true  where  there  is  some 
approach  to  real  democracy.  Brt  it  is  true  to 
a  considerable  extent  in  all  coui-tries,  because 
Prime  Ministers  and  Foreign  Secretaries  are 
necessarily  men  in  authority.  The  first  step 
towards  remedying  this  state  of  things  is  a  gen- 
uine interest  in  foreign  affairs  on  the  part  of 
the  ordinary  citizen,  and  an  insistence  that  na- 
tional pride  shall  not  be  allowed  to  jeopardize 
his  other  interests.  During  war,  when  he  is 
roused,  he  is  willing  to  sacrifice  everything  to 
pride;  but  in  quiet  times  he  will  be  far  more 
ready  than  men  in  authority  to  realize  that  for- 
eign affairs,  like  private  concerns,  ought  to  be 
settled  amicably  according  to  principles,  not 
brutally  by  force  or  the  threat  of  force. 

The  effect  of  personal  bias  in  the  men  who 
actually  compose  the  Government  may  be  seen 
very  clearly  in  labor  disputes.  French  syndi- 
calists affirm  that  the  State  is  simply  a  product 
of  capitalism,  a  part  of  the  weapons  which  cap- 
ital employs  in  its  conflict  with  labor.    Even  in 


THE  STATE  65 

democratic  States  there  is  much  to  bear  out  this 
view.  In  strikes  it  is  common  to  order  out  the 
soldiers  to  coerce  the  strikers ;  although  the  em- 
ployers are  much  fewer,  and  much  easier  to  co- 
erce, the  soldiers  are  never  employed  against 
them.  When  labor  troubles  paralyze  the  indus- 
try of  a  country,  it  is  the  men  who  are  thought 
to  be  unpatriotic,  not  the  masters,  though 
clearly  the  responsibility  belongs  to  both  sides. 
The  chief  reason  for  this  attitude  on  the  part 
of  Governments  is  that  the  men  composing  them 
belong,  by  their  success  if  not  by  their  origin, 
to  the  same  class  as  the  great  employers  of 
labor.  Their  bias  and  their  associates  combine 
to  make  them  view  strikes  and  lockouts  from 
the  standpoint  of  the  rich.  In  a  democracy 
public  opinion  and  the  need  of  conciliating  po- 
litical supporters  partially  correct  these  pluto- 
cratic influences,  but  the  correction  is  always 
only  partial.  And  the  same  influences  which 
warp  the  views  of  Governments  on  labor  ques- 
tions also  warp  their  views  on  foreign  affairs, 
with  the  added  disadvantage  that  the  ordinary 
citizen  has  much  fewer  means  of  arriving  at  an 
independent  judgment. 

The   excessive   power   of   the    State,   partly 
through    internal    oppression,    but    principally 


66  WHY  MEN  FIGHl^ 

through  war  and  the  fear  of  war,  is  one  of  the 
chief  causes  of  misery  in  the  modern  world, 
and  one  of  the  main  reasons  for  the  discourage- 
ment which  prevents  men  from  growing  to  their 
full  mental  stature.  Some  means  of  curing 
this  excessive  power  must  be  found  if  men  are 
not  to  be  organized  into  despair,  as  they  were 
in  the  Eoman  Empire. 

The  State  has  one  purpose  which  is  on  the 
whole  good,  namely,  the  substitution  of  law  for 
force  in  the  relations  of  men.  But  this  purpose 
can  only  be  fully  achieved  by  a  world-State, 
without  which  international  relations  cannot  be 
made  subject  to  law.  And  although  law  is  bet- 
ter than  force,  law  is  still  not  the  best  way  of 
settling  disputes.  Law  is  too  static,  too  much 
on  the  side  of  what  is  decaying,  too  little  on 
the  side  of  what  is  growing.  So  long  as  law  is 
in  theory  supreme,  it  will  have  to  be  tempered, 
from  time  to  time,  by  internal  revolution  and 
external  war.  These  can  only  be  prevented  by 
perpetual  readiness  to  alter  the  law  in  accord- 
ance with  the  present  balance  of  forces.  If  this 
is  not  done,  the  motives  for  appealing  to  force 
will  sooner  or  later  become  irresistible.  A 
world-State  or  federation  of  States,  if  it  is  to 
be  successful,  will  have  to  decide  questions,  not 


THE  STAT13  6? 

by  the  legal  maxims  which  would  be  applied  by 
the  Hague  tribunal,  but  as  far  as  possible  in 
the  same  sense  in  which  they  would  be  decided 
by  war.  The  function  of  authority  should  be 
to  render  the  appeal  to  force  unnecessary,  not 
to  give  decisions  contrary  to  those  which  would 
be  reached  by  force. 

This  view  may  be  thought  by  some  to  be  im- 
moral. It  may  be  said  that  the  object  of  civ- 
ilization should  be  to  secure  justice,  not  to  give 
the  victory  to  the  strong.  But  when  this  an- 
tithesis is  allowed  to  pass,  it  is  forgotten  that 
love  of  justice  may  itself  set  force  in  motion. 
A  Legislature  which  wishes  to  decide  an  issue 
in  the  same  way  as  it  would  be  decided  if  there 
were  an  appeal  to  force  will  necessarily  take 
account  of  justice,  provided  justice  is  so  fla- 
grantly on  one  side  that  disinterested  parties 
are  willing  to  take  up  the  quarrel.  If  a  strong 
man  assaults  a  weak  man  in  the  streets  of  Lon- 
don, the  balance  of  force  is  on  the  side  of  the 
weak  man,  because,  even  if  the  police  did  not 
appear,  casual  passers-by  would  step  in  to  de- 
fend him.  It  is  sheer  cant  to  speak  of  a  contest 
of  might  against  right,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
hope  for  a  victory  of  the  right.  If  the  contest 
is  really  between  miglit  and  right,  that  means 


68  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

that  right  will  be  beaten.  What  is  obscurely 
intended,  when  this  phrase  is  used,  is  that  the 
stronger  side  is  only  rendered  stronger  by 
men's  sense  of  right.  But  men's  sense  of  right 
is  very  subjective,  and  is  only  one  factor  in  de- 
ciding the  preponderance  of  force.  What  is  de- 
sirable in  a  Legislature  is,  not  that  it  should  de- 
cide by  its  personal  sense  of  right,  but  that  it 
should  decide  in  a  way  which  is  felt  to  make  an 
appeal  to  force  unnecessary. 

Having  considered  what  the  State  ought  not 
to  do,  I  come  now  to  what  it  ought  to  do. 

Apart  from  war  and  the  preservation  of  in- 
ternal order,  there  are  certain  more  positive 
functions  which  the  State  performs,  and  certain 
others  which  it  ought  to  perform. 

We  may  lay  down  two  principles  as  regards 
these  positive  functions. 

First :  there  are  matters  in  which  the  welfare 
of  the  whole  community  depends  upon  the  prac- 
tically universal  attainment  of  a  certain  mini- 
mum; in  such  cases  the  State  has  the  right  to 
insist  upon  this  minimum  being  attained. 

Secondly :  there  are  ways  in  which,  by  insist- 
ing upon  the  maintenance  of  law,  the  State,  if 
it  does  nothing  further,  renders  possible  vari- 
ous forms  of  injustice  which  would  otherwise 


THE  STATE  69 

be  prevented  by  the  anger  of  their  victims. 
Such  injustices  ought,  as  far  as  possible,  to  be 
prevented  by  the  State. 

The  most  obvious  example  of  a  matter  where 
the  general  welfare  depends  upon  a  universal 
minimum  is  sanitation  and  the  prevention  of 
infectious  diseases.  A  single  case  of  plague, 
if  it  is  neglected,  may  cause  disaster  to  a  whole 
community.  No  one  can  reasonably  maintain, 
on  general  grounds  of  liberty,  that  a  man  suf- 
fering from  plague  ought  to  be  left  free  to 
spread  infection  far  and  wide.  Exactly  similar 
considerations  apply  to  drainage,  notification 
of  fevers,  and  kindred  matters.  The  interfer- 
ence with  liberty  remains  an  evil,  but  in  some 
cases  it  is  clearly  a  smaller  evil  than  the  spread 
of  disease  which  liberty  would  produce.  The 
stamping  out  of  malaria  and  yellow  fever  by 
destroying  mosquitoes  is  perhaps  the  most  strik- 
ing example  of  the  good  which  can  be  done  in 
this  way.  But  when  the  good  is  small  or  doubt- 
ful, and  the  interference  with  liberty  is  great, 
it  becomes  better  to  endure  a  certain  amount  of 
preventable  disease  rather  than  suffer  a  scien- 
tific tyranny. 

Compulsory  education  comes  under  the  same 
head  as  sanitation.     The  existence  of  ignorant 


70  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

masses  in  a  population  is  a  danger  to  the  com- 
munity; wlien  a  considerable  percentage  are  il- 
literate, the  whole  machinery  of  government  has 
to  take  account  of  the  fact.  Democracy  in  its 
modern  form  would  be  quite  impossible  in  a  na- 
tion where  many  men  cannot  read.  But  in  this 
case  there  is  not  the  same  need  of  absolute  uni- 
versality as  in  the  case  of  sanitary  measures. 
The  gipsies,  whose  mode  of  life  has  been  ren- 
dered almost  impossible  by  the  education  au- 
thorities, might  well  have  been  allowed  to  re- 
main a  picturesque  exception.  But  apart  from 
such  rather  unimportant  exceptions,  the  argu- 
ment for  compulsory  education  is  irresistible. 

What  the  State  does  for  the  care  of  children 
at  present  is  less  than  what  ought  to  be  done, 
not  more.  Children  are  not  capable  of  looking 
after  their  own  interests,  and  parental  responsi- 
bility is  in  many  ways  inadequate.  It  is  clear 
that  the  State  alone  can  insist  upon  the  children 
being  provided  with  the  minimum  of  knowledge 
and  health  which,  for  the  time  being,  satisfies 
the  conscience  of  the  community. 

The  encouragement  of  scientific  research  is 
another  matter  which  comes  rightly  within  the 
powers  of  the  State,  because  the  benefits  of  dis- 
coveries accrue  to  the  community,  while  the  in- 


THE  STATE  71 

vestigations  are  expensive  and  never  individ- 
ually certain  of  achieving  any  result.  In  this 
matter,  Great  Britain  lags  behind  all  other  civ- 
ilized countries. 

The  second  kind  of  powers  which  the  State 
ought  to  possess  are  those  that  aim  at  dimin- 
ishing economic  injustice.  It  is  this  kind  that 
has  been  emphasized  by  socialists.  The  law 
creates  or  facilitates  monopolies,  and  monopo- 
lies are  able  to  exact  a  toll  from  the  commun- 
ity. The  most  glaring  example  is  the  private 
o^vnership  of  land.  Railways  are  at  present 
controlled  by  the  State,  since  rates  are  fixed  by 
law;  and  it  is  clear  that  if  they  were  uncon- 
trolled, they  would  acquire  a  dangerous  degree 
of  power.^  Such  considerations,  if  they  stood 
alone,  would  justify  complete  socialism.  But  I 
think  justice,  by  itself,  is,  like  law,  too  static  to 
be  made  a  supreme  political  principle:  it  does 
not,  when  it  has  been  achieved,  contain  any 
seeds  of  new  life  or  any  impetus  to  develop- 
ment. For  this  reason,  when  we  wish  to  rem- 
edy an  injustice,  it  is  important  to  consider 
whether,  in  so  doing,  we  shall  be  destroying  the 
incentive  to  some  form  of  vigorous  action  which 

1  This  would  be  as  true  under  a  eyndicaliat  regime  as  it  is 
at  present. 


72  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

is  on  the  whole  useful  to  the  community.  No 
such  form  of  action,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  is  as- 
sociated with  private  ownership  of  land  or  of 
any  other  source  of  economic  rent ;  if  this  is  the 
case,  it  follows  that  the  State  ought  to  be  the 
primary  recipient  of  rent. 

If  all  these  powers  are  allowed  to  the  State, 
what  becomes  of  the  attempt  to  rescue  individ- 
ual liberty  from  its  tyranny  ? 

This  is  part  of  the  general  problem  which 
confronts  all  those  who  still  care  for  the  ideals 
which  inspired  liberalism,  namely  the  problem 
of  combining  liberty  and  personal  initiative 
with  organization.  Politics  and  economics  are 
more  and  more  dominated  by  vast  organizations, 
in  face  of  which  the  individual  is  in  danger  of 
becoming  powerless.  The  State  is  the  greatest 
of  these  organizations,  and  the  most  serious 
menace  to  liberty.  And  yet  it  seems  that  many 
of  its  functions  must  be  extended  rather  than 
curtailed. 

There  is  one  way  by  which  organization  and 
liberty  can  be  combined,  and  that  is,  by  secur- 
ing power  for  voluntary  organizations,  consist- 
ing of  men  who  have  chosen  to  belong  to  them 
because  they  embody  some  purpose  which  all 
their  members  consider  important,  not  a  pur- 


THE  STATE  73 

pose  imposed  by  accident  or  outside  force.  The 
State,  being  geographical,  cannot  be  a  wholly 
voluntary  association,  but  for  that  very  reason 
there  is  need  of  a  strong  public  opinion  to  re- 
strain it  from  a  tyrannical  use  of  its  powers. 
This  public  opinion,  in  most  matters,  can  only 
be  secured  by  combinations  of  those  who  have 
certain  interests  or  desires  in  common. 

The  positive  purposes  of  the  State,  over  and 
above  the  preservation  of  order,  ought  as  far 
as  possible  to  be  carried  out,  not  by  the  State 
itself,  but  by  independent  organizations,  which 
should  be  left  completely  free  so  long  as  they 
satisfied  the  State  that  they  were  not  falling 
below  a  necessary  minimum.  This  occurs  to 
a  certain  limited  extent  at  present  in  regard  to 
elementary  education.  The  universities,  also, 
may  be  regarded  as  acting  for  the  State  in  the 
matter  of  higher  education  and  research,  except 
that  in  their  case  no  minimum  of  achievement 
is  exacted.  In  the  economic  sphere,  the  State 
ought  to  exercise  control,  but  ought  to  leave 
initiative  to  others.  There  is  every  reason  to 
multiply  opportunities  of  initiative,  and  to  give 
the  greatest  possible  share  of  initiative  to  each 
individual,  for  if  this  is  not  done  there  will  be 
a  general  sense  of  impotence  and  discourage- 


74  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ment.  There  ought  to  be  a  constant  endeavor 
to  leave  the  more  positive  aspects  of  govern- 
ment in  the  hands  of  voluntary  organizations, 
the  purpose  of  the  State  being  merely  to  exact 
efficiency  and  to  secure  an  amicable  settlement 
of  disputes,  whether  within  or  ^\dthout  its  own 
borders.  And  wdth  this  ought  to  be  combined 
the  greatest  possible  toleration  of  exceptions 
and  the  least  possible  insistence  upon  uniform 
system. 

A  good  deal  may  be  achieved  through  local 
government  by  trades  as  well  as  by  areas.  This 
is  the  most  original  idea  in  syndicalism,  and  it 
is  valuable  as  a  check  upon  the  tyranny  which 
the  community  may  be  tempted  to  exercise  over 
certain  classes  of  its  members.  All  strong  or- 
ganizations which  embody  a  sectional  public 
opinion,  such  as  trade  unions,  cooperative  so- 
cieties, professions,  and  universities,  are  to  be 
welcomed  as  safeguards  of  liberty  and  oppor- 
tunities for  initiative.  And  there  is  need  of  a 
strong  public  opinion  in  favor  of  liberty  itself. 
The  old  battles  for  freedom  of  thought  and  free- 
dom of  speech,  which  it  was  thought  had  been 
definitively  won,  will  have  to  be  fought  all  over 
again,  since  most  men  are  only  willing  to  accord 
freedom  to  opinions  which  happen  to  be  popu- 


THE  STATE  75 

lar.  Institutions  cannot  preserve  liberty  un- 
less men  realize  that  liberty  is  precious  and 
are  willing  to  exert  themselves  to  keep  it 
alive. 

There  is  a  traditional  objection  to  every  im- 
perium  in  imperio,  but  this  is  only  the  jealousy 
of  the  tyrant.  In  actual  fact,  the  modern  State 
contains  many  organizations  which  it  cannot  de- 
feat, except  perhaps  on  rare  occasions  when  pub- 
lic opinion  is  roused  against  them.  Mr.  Lloyd 
George's  long  fight  with  the  medical  profession 
over  the  Insurance  Act  was  full  of  Homeric 
fluctuations  of  fortune.  The  Welsh  miners  re- 
cently routed  the  whole  power  of  the  State, 
backed  by  an  excited  nation.  As  for  the  finan- 
ciers, no  Government  would  dream  of  a  conflict 
with  them.  When  all  other  classes  are  ex- 
horted to  patriotism,  they  are  allowed  their  4l^ 
per  cent,  and  an  increase  of  interest  on  their 
consols.  It  is  well  understood  on  all  sides  that 
an  appeal  to  their  patriotism  would  show  gross 
ignorance  of  the  world.  It  is  against  the 
traditions  of  the  State  to  extort  their  money 
by  threatening  to  withdraw  police  protection. 
This  is  not  due  to  the  difficulty  of  such  a  meas- 
ure, but  only  to  the  fact  that  great  wealth  wins 
genuine  admiration  from  us  all,  and  we  cannot 


76  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

bear  to  think  of  a  very  rich  man  being  treated 
with  disrespect. 

The  existence  of  strong  organizations  within 
the  State,  such  as  trade  unions,  is  not  undesir- 
able except  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  official 
who  wishes  to  wield  unlimited  power,  or  of  the 
rival  organizations,  such  as  federations  of  em- 
ployers, which  would  prefer  a  disorganized  ad- 
versary. In  view  of  the  vastness  of  the  State, 
most  men  can  find  little  political  outlet  for  in- 
itiative except  in  subordinate  organizations 
formed  for  specific  purposes.  Without  an  out- 
let for  political  initiative,  men  lose  their  social 
vigor  and  their  interest  in  public  affairs:  they 
become  a  prey  to  corrupt  wire-pullers,  or  to 
sensation-mongers  who  have  the  art  of  captur- 
ing a  tired  and  vagrant  attention.  The  cure 
for  this  is  to  increase  rather  than  diminish  the 
powers  of  voluntary  organizations,  to  give 
every  man  a  sphere  of  political  activity  small 
enough  for  his  interest  and  his  capacity,  and 
to  confine  the  functions  of  the  State,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  the  maintenance  of  peace  among 
rival  interests.  The  essential  merit  of  the 
State  is  that  it  prevents  the  internal  use  of  force 
by  private  persons.    Its  essential  demerits  are, 


THE  STATE  77 

that  it  promotes  the  external  use  of  force,  and 
that,  by  its  great  size,  it  makes  each  individual 
feel  impotent  even  in  a  democracy.  I  shall  re- 
turn in  a  later  lecture  to  the  question  of  pre- 
venting war.  The  prevention  of  the  sense  of 
individual  impotence  cannot  be  achieved  by  a 
return  to  the  small  City  State,  which  would  be 
as  reactionary  as  a  return  to  the  days  before 
machinery.  It  must  be  achieved  by  a  method 
which  is  in  the  direction  of  present  tendencies. 
Such  a  method  would  be  the  increasing  devolu- 
tion of  positive  political  initiative  to  bodies 
formed  voluntarily  for  specific  purposes,  leav- 
ing the  State  rather  in  the  position  of  a  federal 
authority  or  a  court  of  arbitration.  The  State 
will  then  confine  itself  to  insisting  upon  some 
settlement  of  rival  interests:  its  only  principle 
in  deciding  what  is  the  right  settlement  will  be 
an  attempt  to  find  the  measure  most  acceptable, 
on  the  whole,  to  all  the  parties  concerned. 
This  is  the  direction  in  which  democratic  States 
naturally  tend,  except  in  so  far  as  they  are 
turned  aside  by  war  or  the  fear  of  war.  So 
long  as  war  remains  a  daily  imminent  danger, 
the  State  will  remain  a  Moloch,  sacrificing 
sometimes  the  life  of  the  individual,  and  always 


78  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

his  unfettered  development,  to  the  barren  strug- 
gle for  mastery  in  the  competition  with  other 
States.  In  internal  as  in  external  affairs,  the 
worst  enemy  of  freedom  is  war. 


in 

WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION 

IN  spite  of  the  fact  that  most  nations  at  most 
times,  are  at  peace,  war  is  one  of  the  per- 
manent institutions  of  all  free  communities, 
just  as  Parliament  is  one  of  our  permanent  in- 
stitutions in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  is  not  al- 
ways sitting.  It  is  war  as  a  permanent  insti- 
tution that  I  wish  to  consider:  why  men  toler- 
ate it;  why  they  ought  not  to  tolerate  it;  what 
hope  there  is  of  their  coming  not  to  tolerate 
it ;  and  how  they  could  abolish  it  if  they  wished 
to  do  so. 

War  is  a  conflict  between  two  groups,  each 
of  which  attempts  to  kill  and  maim  as  many 
as  possible  of  the  other  group  in  order  to 
achieve  some  object  which  it  desires.  The  ob- 
ject is  generally  either  power  or  wealth.  It  is 
a  pleasure  to  exercise  authority  over  other  men, 
and  it  is  a  pleasure  to  live  on  the  produce  of 
other  men's  labor.  The  victor  in  war  can  en- 
joy more  of  these  delights  than  the  vanquished. 

79 


80  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

But  war,  like  all  other  natural  activities,  is  not 
so  much  prompted  by  the  end  which  it  has  in 
\dew  as  by  an  impulse  to  the  activity  itself. 
Very  often  men  desire  an  end,  not  on  its  own 
account,  but  because  their  nature  demands  the 
actions  which  will  lead  to  the  end.  And  so  it  is 
in  this  case :  the  ends  to  be  achieved  by  war  ap- 
pear in  prospect  far  more  important  than  they 
will  appear  when  they  are  realized,  because 
war  itself  is  a  fulfilment  of  one  side  of  our  na- 
ture. If  men's  actions  sprang  from  desires  for 
what  would  in  fact  bring  happiness,  the  purely 
rational  arguments  against  war  would  have 
long  ago  put  an  end  to  it.  What  makes  war 
difficult  to  suppress  is  that  it  springs  from  an 
impulse,  rather  than  from  a  calculation  of  the 
advantages  to  be  derived  from  war. 

War  differs  from  the  employment  of  force 
by  the  police  through  the  fact  that  the  actions 
of  the  police  are  ordered  by  a  neutral  author- 
ity, whereas  in  war  it  is  the  parties  to  the  dis- 
pute themselves  who  set  force  in  motion.  This 
distinction  is  not  absolute,  since  the  State  is 
not  always  wholly  neutral  in  internal  disturb- 
ances. When  strikers  are  shot  down,  the  State 
is  taking  the  side  of  the  rich.  When  opinions 
adverse  to  the  existing  State  are  punished,  the 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  81 

State  is  obviously  one  of  the  parties  to  the  dis- 
pute. And  from  the  suppression  of  individual 
opinion  up  to  civil  war  all  gradations  are  pos- 
sible. But  broadly  speaking,  force  employed 
according  to  laws  previously  laid  down  by  the 
community  as  a  whole  may  be  distinguished 
from  force  employed  by  one  community  against 
another  on  occasions  of  which  the  one  com- 
munity is  the  sole  judge.  I  have  dwelt  upon 
this  difference  because  I  do  not  think  the  use 
of  force  by  the  police  can  be  wholly  eliminated, 
and  I  think  a  similar  use  of  force  in  interna- 
tional affairs  is  the  best  hope  of  permanent 
peace.  At  present,  international  affairs  are 
regulated  by  the  principle  that  a  nation  must 
not  intervene  unless  its  interests  are  involved: 
diplomatic  usage  forbids  intervention  for  the 
mere  maintenance  of  international  law.  Amer- 
ica may  protest  when  American  citizens  are 
drowned  by  German  submarines,  but  must  not 
protest  when  no  American  citizens  are  involved. 
The  case  would  be  analogous  in  internal  affairs 
if  the  police  would  only  interfere  with  murder 
when  it  happened  that  a  policeman  had  been 
killed.  So  long  as  this  principle  prevails  in  the 
relations  of  States,  the  power  of  neutrals  can- 
not be  effectively  employed  to  prevent  war. 


82  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

In  every  civilized  country  two  forces  coop- 
erate to  produce  war.  In  ordinary  times  some 
men — usually  a  small  proportion  of  the  popula- 
tion— are  bellicose:  they  predict  war,  and  ob- 
viously are  not  unhappy  in  the  prospect.  So 
long  as  war  is  not  imminent,  the  bulk  of  the 
population  pay  little  attention  to  these  men,  and 
do  not  actively  either  support  or  oppose  them. 
But  when  war  begins  to  seem  very  near,  a  war- 
fever  seizes  hold  of  people,  and  those  who  were 
already  bellicose  find  themselves  enthusias- 
tically supported  by  all  but  an  insignificant  mi- 
nority. The  impulses  which  inspire  w^ar-fever 
are  rather  different  from  those  which  make 
some  men  bellicose  in  ordinary  times.  Only  ed- 
ucated men  are  likely  to  be  warlike  at  ordinary 
times,  since  they  alone  are  vividly  aware  of 
other  countries  or  of  the  part  which  their  own 
nation  might  play  in  the  affairs  of  the  world. 
But  it  is  only  their  knowledge,  not  their  nature, 
that  distinguishes  them  from  their  more  igno- 
rant compatriots. 

To  take  the  most  ob^dous  example,  German 
policy,  in  recent  years  before  the  war,  w^as  not 
averse  from  war,  and  not  friendly  to  England. 
It  is  worth  while  to  try  to  understand  the  state 
of  mind  from  which  this  policy  sprang. 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  83 

The  men  who  direct  German  policy  are,  to 
begin  with,  patriotic  to  an  extent  which  is  al- 
most unknown  in  France  and  England.  The  in- 
terests of  Germany  appear  to  them  unquestion- 
ably the  only  interests  they  need  take  into  ac- 
count. What  injury  may,  in  pursuing  those 
interests,  be  done  to  other  nations,  what  de- 
struction may  be  brought  upon  populations  and 
cities,  what  irreparable  damage  may  result  to 
civilization,  it  is  not  for  them  to  consider.  If 
they  can  confer  what  they  regard  as  benefits 
upon  Germany,  everything  else  is  of  no  account. 

The  second  noteworthy  point  about  German 
policy  is  that  its  conception  of  national  wel- 
fare is  mainly  competitive.  It  is  not  the  in- 
trinsic wealth  of  Germany,  whether  materially 
or  mentally,  that  the  rulers  of  Germany  con- 
sider important:  it  is  the  comparative  wealth 
in  the  competition  with  other  civilized  coun- 
tries. For  this  reason  the  destruction  of  good 
things  abroad  appears  to  them  almost  as  desir- 
able as  the  creation  of  good  things  in  Germany. 
In  most  parts  of  the  world  the  French  are  re- 
garded as  the  most  civilized  of  nations:  their 
art  and  their  literature  and  their  way  of  life 
have  an  attraction  for  foreigners  which  those 
of  Germany  do  not  have.     The  English  have 


84  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

developed  political  liberty,  and  the  art  of  main- 
taining an  Empire  with  a  minimum  of  coercion, 
in  a  way  for  which  Germany,  hitherto,  has 
shown  no  aptitude.  These  are  grounds  for 
envjy  and  envy  wishes  to  destroy  what  is  good 
in  other  countries.  German  militarists,  quite 
rightly,  judged  that  what  was  best  in  France 
and  England  would  probably  be  destroyed  by  a 
great  war,  even  if  France  and  England  were 
not  in  the  end  defeated  in  the  actual  fighting. 
I  have  seen  a  list  of  young  French  writers 
killed  on  the  battlefield;  probably  the  German 
authorities  have  also  seen  it,  and  have  reflected 
with  joy  that  another  year  of  such  losses  will 
destroy  French  literature  for  a  generation — 
perhaps,  through  loss  of  tradition,  for  ever. 
Every  outburst  against  liberty  in  our  more  bel- 
licose newspapers,  every  incitement  to  perse- 
cution of  defenseless  Germans,  every  mark  of 
growing  ferocity  in  our  attitude,  must  be  read 
with  delight  by  German  patriots,  as  proving 
their  success  in  robbing  us  of  our  best,  and  in 
forcing  us  to  imitate  whatever  is  worst  in  Prus- 
sia. 

But  what  the  rulers  of  Germany  have  envied 
ns  most  was  power  and  wealth — the  power  de- 
rived from  command  of  the  seas  and  the  straits, 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  85 

the  wealth  derived  from  a  centuiy  of  industrial 
supremacy.  In  both  these  respects  they  feel 
that  their  deserts  are  higher  than  ours.  They 
have  devoted  far  more  thought  and  skill  to  mil- 
itary and  industrial  organization.  Their  aver- 
age of  intelligence  and  knowledge  is  far  supe- 
rior; their  capacity  for  pursuing  an  attainable 
end,  unitedly  and  with  forethought,  is  infinitely 
greater.  Yet  we,  merely  (as  they  think)  be- 
cause we  had  a  start  in  the  race,  have  achieved 
a  vastly  larger  Empire  than  they  have,  and  an 
enormously  greater  control  of  capital.  All  this 
is  unbearable ;  yet  nothing  but  a  great  war  can 
alter  it. 

Besides  all  these  feelings,  there  is  in  many 
Germans,  especially  in  those  who  know  us  best, 
a  hot  hatred  of  us  on  account  of  our  pride. 
Farinata  degli  Uberti  surveyed  Hell  ''come 
avesse  lo  Inferno  in  gran  dispitto."  Just  so, 
by  German  accounts,  English  officer  prisoners 
look  round  them  among  their  captors — hold- 
ing aloof,  as  though  the  enemy  were  noxious, 
unclean  creatures,  toads  or  slugs  or  centipedes, 
which  a  man  does  not  touch  willingly,  and 
shakes  off  with  loathing  if  he  is  forced  to  touch 
them  for  a  moment.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  how 
the  devils  hated  Farinata,  and  inflicted  greater 


86  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

pains  upon  him  than  upon  his  neighbors,  hop- 
ing to  win  recognition  by  some  slight  wincing 
on  his  part,  driven  to  frenzy  by  his  continuing 
to  behave  as  if  they  did  not  exist.  In  just  the 
same  way  the  Germans  are  maddened  by  our 
spiritual  immobility.  At  bottom  we  have  re- 
garded the  Geraians  as  one  regards  flies  on  a 
hot  day:  they  are  a  nuisance,  one  has  to  brush 
them  off,  but  it  would  not  occur  to  one  to  be 
turned  aside  by  them.  Now  that  the  initial  cer- 
tainty of  victory  has  faded,  we  begin  to  be  af- 
fected inwardly  by  the  Germans.  In  time,  if 
we  continue  to  fail  in  our  military  enterprises, 
we  shall  realize  that  they  are  human  beings,  not 
just  a  tiresome  circumstance.  Then  perhaps 
we  shall  hate  them  with  a  hatred  which  they 
will  have  no  reason  to  resent.  And  from  such 
a  hatred  it  will  be  only  a  short  journey  to  a 
genuine  rapprochement. 

The  problem  which  must  be  solved,  if  the  fu- 
ture of  the  world  is  to  be  less  terrible  than  its 
present,  is  the  problem  of  preventing  nations 
from  getting  into  the  moods  of  England  and 
Germany  at  the  outbreak  of  the  war.  These 
two  nations  as  they  were  at  that  moment  might 
be  taken  as  almost  mythical  representatives  of 
pride  and  envy — cold  pride  and  hot  envy.     Ger- 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  87 

many  declaimed  passionately:  *'You,  Eng- 
land, swollen  and  decrepit,  you  overshadow  my 
whole  growth — your  rotting  branches  keep  the 
sun  from  shining  upon  me  and  the  rain  from 
nourishing  me.  Your  spreading  foliage  must 
be  lopped,  your  symmetrical  beauty  must  be 
destroyed,  that  I  too  may  have  freedom  to  grow, 
that  my  young  vigor  may  no  longer  be 
impeded  by  your  decaying  mass."  England, 
bored  and  aloof,  unconscious  of  the  claims  of 
outside  forces,  attempted  absent-mindedly  to 
sweep  away  the  upstart  disturber  of  medita- 
tion; but  the  upstart  was  not  swept  away,  and 
remains  so  far  with  every  prospect  of  making 
good  his  claim.  The  claim  and  the  resistance 
to  it  are  alike  folly.  Germany  had  no  good 
ground  for  envy;  we  had  no  good  ground  for 
resisting  whatever  in  Germany's  demands  was 
compatible  with  our  continued  existence.  Is 
there  any  method  of  averting  such  reciprocal 
folly  in  the  future  ? 

I  think  if  either  the  English  or  the  Germans 
were  capable  of  thinking  in  terms  of  individual 
welfare  rather  than  national  pride,  they  would 
have  seen  that,  at  every  moment  during  the  war 
the  wisest  course  would  have  been  to  conclude 
peace  at  once,  on  the  best  terms  that  could  have 


88  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

been  obtained.  This  course,  I  am  convinced, 
would  have  been  the  wisest  for  each  separate 
nation,  as  well  as  for  civilization  in  general. 
The  utmost  evil  that  the  enemy  could  inflict 
through  an  unfavorable  peace  would  be  a  trifle 
compared  to  the  evil  which  all  the  nations  in- 
flict upon  themselves  by  continuing  to  fight. 
What  blinds  us  to  this  obvious  fact  is  pride,  the 
pride  which  makes  the  acknowledgment  of  de- 
feat intolerable,  and  clothes  itself  in  the  garb 
of  reason  by  suggesting  all  kinds  of  evils  which 
are  supposed  to  result  from  admitting  defeat. 
But  the  only  real  evil  of  defeat  is  humiliation, 
and  humiliation  is  subjective;  we  shall  not  feel 
humiliated  if  we  become  persuaded  that  it  was 
a  mistake  to  engage  in  the  war,  and  that  it  is 
better  to  pursue  other  tasks  not  deiDendent  upon 
world-dominion.  If  either  the  English  or  the 
Germans  could  admit  this  inwardly,  any  peace 
which  did  not  destroy  national  independence 
could  be  accepted  without  real  loss  in  the  self- 
respect  which  is  essential  to  a  good  life. 

The  mood  in  which  Germany  embarked  upon 
the  war  was  abominable,  but  it  was  a  mood 
fostered  by  the  habitual  mood  of  England.  We 
have  prided  ourselves  upon  our  territory  and 
our  wealth ;  we  have  been  ready  at  all  times  to 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  89 

defend  by  force  of  arms  what  we  have  conquered 
in  India  and  Africa.  If  we  had  realized  the 
futility  of  empire,  and  had  shown  a  willingness 
to  yield  colonies  to  Germany  without  waiting  for 
the  threat  of  force,  we  might  have  been  in  a 
position  to  persuade  the  Germans  that  their 
ambitions  were  foolish,  and  that  the  respect  of 
the  world  was  not  to  be  won  by  an  imperialist 
policy.  But  by  our  resistance  we  showed  that 
we  shared  their  standards.  We,  being  in  pos- 
session, became  enamored  of  the  status  quo. 
The  Germans  were  willing  to  make  war  to  up- 
set the  status  quo;  we  were  willing  to  make  war 
to  prevent  its  being  upset  in  Germany's  favor. 
So  convinced  were  we  of  the  sacredness  of  the 
status  quo  that  we  never  realized  how  advan- 
tageous it  was  to  us,  or  how,  by  insisting  upon 
it,  we  shared  the  responsibility  for  the  war.  In 
a  world  where  nations  grow  and  decay,  where 
forces  change  and  populations  become  cramped, 
it  is  not  possible  or  desirable  to  maintain  the 
status  quo  for  ever.  If  peace  is  to  be  pre- 
served, nations  must  learn  to  accept  unfavor- 
able alterations  of  the  map  without  feeling  that 
tliey  must  first  be  defeated  in  war,  or  that  in 
yielding  they  incur  a  humiliation. 
It  is  the  insistence  of  legalists  and  friends  of 


90  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

peace  upon  the  maintenance  of  the  status  quo 
that  has  driven  Germany  into  militarism. 
Germany  had  as  good  a  right  to  an  Empire  as 
any  other  Great  Power,  but  could  only  acquire 
an  Empire  through  war.  Love  of  peace  has 
been  too  much  associated  with  a  static  concep- 
tion of  international  relations.  In  economic 
disputes  we  all  know  that  whatever  is  vigorous 
in  the  wage-earning  classes  is  opposed  to  "in- 
dustrial peace,"  because  the  existing  distribu- 
tion of  wealth  is  felt  to  be  unfair.  Those  who 
enjoy  a  privileged  position  endeavor  to  bolster 
up  their  claims  by  appealing  to  the  desire  for 
peace,  and  decrying  those  who  promote  strife 
between  the  classes.  It  never  occurs  to  them 
that  by  opposing  changes  without  considering 
whether  they  are  just,  the  capitalists  share  the 
responsibility  for  the  class  war.  And  in  ex- 
actly the  same  way  England  shares  the  respon- 
sibility for  Germany's  war.  If  actual  war  is 
ever  to  cease  there  will  have  to  be  political 
methods  of  achieving  the  results  which  now 
can  only  be  achieved  by  successful  fighting,  and 
nations  will  have  voluntarily  to  admit  adverse 
claims  which  appear  just  in  the  judgment  of 
neutrals. 

It  is  only  by  some  such  admission,  embody- 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  91 

ing  itself  in  a  Parliament  of  the  nations  with 
full  power  to  alter  the  distribution  of  territory, 
that  militarism  can  be  permanently  overcome. 
It  may  be  that  the  present  war  will  bring,  in  the 
Western  nations,  a  change  of  mood  and  outlook 
sufficient  to  make  such  an  institution  possible. 
It  may  be  that  more  wars  and  more  destruction 
will  be  necessary  before  the  majority  of  civil- 
ized men  rebel  against  the  brutality  and  futile 
destruction  of  modern  war.  But  unless  our 
standards  of  civilization  and  our  powers  of  con- 
structive thought  are  to  be  permanently  low- 
ered, I  cannot  doubt  that,  sooner  or  later, 
reason  will  conquer  the  blind  impulses  which 
now  lead  nations  into  war.  And  if  a  large  ma- 
jority of  the  Great  Powers  had  a  firm  determi- 
nation that  peace  should  be  preserved,  there 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  devising  diplomatic 
machinery  for  the  settlement  of  disputes,  and 
in  establishing  educational  systems  which 
would  implant  in  the  minds  of  the  young  an  in- 
eradicable horror  of  the  slaughter  which  they 
are  now  taught  to  admire. 

Besides  the  conscious  and  deliberate  forces 
leading  to  war,  there  are  the  inarticulate  feel- 
ings of  common  men,  which,  in  most  civilized 
countries,  are  always  ready  to  burst  into  war 


92  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

fever  at  the  bidding  of  statesmen.  If  peace  is 
to  be  secure,  the  readiness  to  catch  war  fever 
must  be  somehow  diminished.  Whoever  wishes 
to  succeed  in  this  must  first  understand  what 
war  fever  is  and  why  it  arises. 

The  men  who  have  an  important  influence  in 
the  world,  whether  for  good  or  evil,  are  domi- 
nated as  a  rule  by  a  threefold  desire:  they  de- 
sire, ^rst,  an  activity  which  calls  fully  into  play 
the  faculties  in  which  they  feel  that  they  excel ; 
secondly,  the  sense  of  successfully  overcoming 
resistance ;  thirdly,  the  respect  of  others  on  ac- 
count of  their  success.  The  third  of  these  de- 
sires is  sometimes  absent :  some  men  who  have 
been  great  have  been  without  the  "last  infinn- 
ity,"  and  have  been  content  with  their  own 
sense  of  success,  or  merely  with  the  joy  of  diffi- 
cult effort.  But  as  a  rule  all  three  are  pres- 
ent. Some  men's  talents  are  specialized,  so 
that  their  choice  of  activities  is  circumscribed 
by  the  nature  of  their  faculties ;  other  men  have, 
in  youth,  such  a  wide  range  of  possible  aptitudes 
that  their  choice  is  chiefly  determined  by  the 
varying  degrees  of  respect  which  public  opinion 
gives  to  different  kinds  of  success. 

The  same  desires,  usually  in  a  less  marked 
degree,  exist  in  men  who  have  no  exceptional 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  93 

talents.  But  such  men  cannot  achieve  any- 
thing very  difficult  by  their  individual  efforts; 
for  them,  as  units,  it  is  impossible  to  acquire 
the  sense  of  greatness  or  the  triumph  of  strong 
resistance  overcome.  Their  separate  lives  are 
unadventurous  and  dull.  In  the  morning  they 
go  to  the  office  or  the  plow,  in  the  evening 
they  return  tired  and  silent,  to  the  sober 
monotony  of  wife  and  children.  Believing  that 
security  is  the  supreme  good,  they  have  insured 
against  sickness  and  death,  and  have  found  an 
employment  where  they  have  little  fear  of  dis- 
missal and  no  hope  of  any  great  rise.  But  se- 
curity, once  achieved,  brings  a  Nemesis  of 
ennui.  Adventure,  imagination,  risk,  also  have 
their  claims ;  but  how  can  these  claims  be  satis- 
fied by  the  ordinary  wage-earner  I  Even  if  it 
were  possible  to  satisfy  them,  the  claims  of 
wife  and  children  have  priority  and  must  not  be 
neglected. 

To  this  victim  of  order  and  good  organiza- 
tion the  realization  comes,  in  some  moment  of 
sudden  crisis,  that  he  belongs  to  a  nation,  that 
his  nation  may  take  risks,  may  engage  in  diffi- 
cult enterprises,  enjoy  the  hot  passion  of  doubt- 
ful combat,  stimulate  adventure  and  imagina- 
tion by  military  expeditions  to  Mount  Sinai  and 


94  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  Garden  of  Eden.  What  his  nation  does,  in 
some  sense,  he  does ;  what  his  nation  suffers,  he 
suffers.  The  long  years  of  private  caution  are 
avenged  by  a  wild  plunge  into  public  madness. 
All  the  horrid  duties  of  thrift  and  order  and 
care  which  he  has  learnt  to  fulfil  in  private  are 
thought  not  to  apply  to  public  affairs:  it  is 
patriotic  and  noble  to  be  reckless  for  the  na- 
tion, though  it  would  be  wicked  to  be  reckless 
for  oneself.  The  old  primitive  passions,  which 
civilization  has  denied,  surge  up  all  the  stronger 
for  repression.  In  a  moment  imagination  and 
instinct  travel  back  through  the  centuries,  and 
the  wild  man  of  the  woods  emerges  from  the 
mental  prison  in  which  he  has  been  confined. 
This  is  the  deeper  part  of  the  psychology  of  the 
war  fever. 

But  besides  the  irrational  and  instinctive  ele- 
ment in  the  war  fever,  there  is  alwaj^s  also,  if 
only  as  a  liberator  of  primitive  impulse,  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  quasi-rational  calculation  and 
what  is  euphemistically  called  * '  thought. ' '  The 
war  fever  very  seldom  seizes  a  nation  unless  it 
believes  that  it  will  be  victorious.  Undoubt- 
edly, under  the  influence  of  excitement,  men 
over-estimate  their  chances  of  success ;  but  there 
is  some  proportion  between  what  is  hoped  and 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  95 

what  a  rational  man  would  expect.  Holland, 
though  quite  as  humane  as  England,  had  no 
impulse  to  go  to  war  on  behalf  of  Belgium,  be- 
cause the  likelihood  of  disaster  was  so  obvi- 
ously overwhelming.  The  London  populace,  if 
they  had  known  how  the  war  was  going  to  de- 
velop, would  not  have  rejoiced  as  they  did  on 
that  August  Bank  Holiday  long  ago.  A  nation 
which  has  had  a  recent  experience  of  war,  and 
has  come  to  know  that  a  war  is  almost  always 
more  painful  than  it  is  expected  to  be  at  the 
outset,  becomes  much  less  liable  to  war  fever 
until  a  new  generation  grows  up.  The  ele- 
ment of  rationality  in  war  fever  is  recognized 
by  Governments  and  journalists  who  desire 
war,  as  may  be  seen  by  their  invariably  mini- 
raizing  the  perils  of  a  war  which  they  wish  to 
provoke.  At  the  beginning  of  the  South  Afri- 
can War  Sir  William  Butler  was  dismissed,  ap- 
parently for  suggesting  that  sixty  thousand 
men  and  three  months  might  not  suffice  to  sub- 
due the  Boer  Republics.  And  when  the  war 
proved  long  and  difficult,  the  nation  turned 
against  those  who  had  made  it.  We  may  as- 
sume, I  think,  without  attributing  too  great 
a  share  to  reason  in  human  affairs,  that  a  na- 
tion would  not  suffer  from  war  fever  in  a  case 


96  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

where  every  sane  man  could  see  that  defeat  was 
very  probable. 

The  importance  of  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  it 
would  make  aggressive  war  very  unlikely  if  its 
chances  of  success  were  very  small.  If  the 
peace-loving  nations  were  sufficiently  strong  to 
be  obviously  capable  of  defeating  the  nations 
which  were  willing  to  wage  aggressive  war,  the 
peace-loving  nations  might  form  an  alliance  and 
agree  to  fight  jointly  against  any  nation  which 
refused  to  submit  its  claims  to  an  Interna- 
tional Council.  Before  the  present  war  we 
might  have  reasonably  hoped  to  secure  the 
peace  of  the  world  in  some  such  way;  but  the 
military  strength  of  Germany  has  shown  that 
such  a  scheme  has  no  great  chance  of  success  at 
present.  Perhaps  at  some  not  far  distant  date 
it  may  be  made  more  feasible  by  developments 
of  policy  in  America. 

The  economic  and  political  forces  which  make 
for  war  could  be  easily  curbed  if  the  will  to 
peace  existed  strongly  in  all  civilized  nations. 
But  so  long  as  the  populations  are  liable  to  war 
fever,  all  work  for  peace  must  be  precarious; 
and  if  war  fever  could  not  be  aroused,  political 
and  economic  forces  would  be  powerless  to  pro- 
duce any  long  or  very  destructive  war.     The 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  97 

fundamental  problem  for  the  pacifist  is  to  pre- 
vent the  impulse  towards  war  which  seizes 
whole  communities  from  time  to  time.  And 
this  can  only  be  done  by  far-reaching  changes 
in  education,  in  the  economic  structure  of  so- 
ciety, and  in  the  moral  code  by  which  public 
opinion  controls  the  lives  of  men  and  women. ^ 

A  great  many  of  the  impulses  which  now  lead 
nations  to  go  to  war  are  in  themselves  essential 
to  any  vigorous  or  progressive  life.  Without 
imagination  and  love  of  adventure  a  society 
soon  becomes  stagnant  and  begins  to  decay. 
Conflict,  provided  it  is  not  destructive  and 
brutal,  is  necessary  in  order  to  stimulate  men's 
activities,  and  to  secure  the  victory  of  what  is 
living  over  what  is  dead  or  merely  traditional. 
The  wish  for  the  triumph  of  one's  cause,  the 
sense  of  solidarity  with  large  bodies  of  men, 
are  not  things  which  a  wdse  man  will  wish  to 
destroy.  It  is  only  the  outcome  in  death  and 
destruction  and  hatred  that  is  evil.  The  prob- 
lem is,  to  keep  these  impulses,  without  making 
war  the  outlet  for  them. 

All   Utopias   that   have   hitherto   been   con- 

1  These  changes,  which  are  to  be  desired  on  their  own  ac- 
count, not  only  in  order  to  prevent  war,  will  be  discussed  in 
later  lectures. 


98  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

structed  are  intolerably  dull.  Any  man  with 
any  force  in  him  would  rather  live  in  this  world, 
with  all  its  ghastly  horrors,  than  in  Plato's  Re- 
public or  among  Swift's  Houylmhnms.  The 
men  who  make  Utopias  proceed  upon  a  radi- 
cally false  assumption  as  to  what  constitutes  a 
good  life.  They  conceive  that  it  is  possible  to 
imagine  a  certain  state  of  society  and  a  certain 
way  of  life  which  should  be  once  for  all  recog- 
nized as  good,  and  should  then  continue  for  ever 
and  ever.  They  do  not  realize  that  much  the 
greater  part  of  a  man's  happiness  depends  upon 
activity,  and  only  a  very  small  remnant  con- 
sists in  passive  enjoyment.  Even  the  pleas- 
ures which  do  consist  in  enjoyment  are  only 
satisfactory,  to  most  men,  when  they  come  in 
the  intervals  of  activity.  Social  reformers,  like 
inventors  of  Utopias,  are  apt  to  forget  this  very 
obvious  fact  of  human  nature.  They  aim 
rather  at  securing  more  leisure,  and  more  op- 
portunity for  enjoying  it,  than  at  making  work 
itself  more  satisfactory,  more  consonant  with 
impulse,  and  a  better  outlet  for  creativeness  and 
the  desire  to  employ  one's  faculties.  Work,  in 
the  modern  world,  is,  to  almost  all  who  depend 
on  earnings,  mere  work,  not  an  embodiment  of 
the  desire  for  activity.    Probably  this  is  to  a 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION  99 

considerable  extent  inevitable.  But  in  so  far 
as  it  can  be  prevented  something  will  be  done 
to  give  a  peaceful  outlet  to  some  of  the  im- 
pulses which  lead  to  war. 

It  would,  of  course,  be  easy  to  bring  about 
peace  if  there  were  no  vigor  in  the  world.  The 
Roman  Empire  was  pacific  and  unproductive; 
the  Athens  of  Pericles  was  the  most  productive 
and  almost  the  most  warlike  community  known 
to  history.  The  only  form  of  production  in 
which  our  own  age  excels  is  science,  and  in 
science  Germany,  the  most  warlike  of  Great 
Powers,  is  supreme.  It  is  useless  to  multiply 
examples;  but  it  is  plain  that  the  very  same 
vital  energy  which  produces  all  that  is  best  also 
produces  war  and  the  love  of  war.  This  is  the 
basis  of  the  opposition  to  pacifism  felt  by  many 
men  whose  aims  and  activities  are  by  no  means 
brutal.  Pacifism,  in  practice,  too  often  ex- 
presses merely  lack  of  force,  not  the  refusal  to 
use  force  in  thwarting  others.  Pacifism,  if  it  is 
to  be  both  victorious  and  beneficent,  must  find 
an  outlet,  compatible  with  humane  feeling,  for 
the  vigor  which  now  leads  nations  into  war  and 
destruction. 

This  problem  was  considered  by  William 
James  in  an  admirable  address  on  **The  Moral 


100  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Equivalent  of  War,"  delivered  to  a  congress  of 
pacifists  during  the  Spanish-American  War  of 
1898.  His  statement  of  the  problem  could  not 
be  bettered;  and  so  far  as  I  know,  he  is  the 
only  writer  who  has  faced  the  problem  ade- 
quately. But  his  solution  is  not  adequate ;  per- 
haps no  adequate  solution  is  possible.  The 
problem,  however,  is  one  of  degree :  every  addi- 
tional peaceful  outlet  for  men's  energies  dimin- 
ishes the  force  which  urges  nations  towards 
war,  and  makes  war  less  frequent  and  less 
fierce.  And  as  a  question  of  degree,  it  is  cap- 
able of  more  or  less  partial  solutions.^ 

Every  vigorous  man  needs  some  kind  of  con- 
test, some  sense  of  resistance  overcome,  in  or- 
der to  feel  that  he  is  exercising  his  faculties. 
Under  the  influence  of  economics,  a  theory  has 
grown  up  that  what  men  desire  is  wealth ;  this 
theory  has  tended  to  verify  itself,  because  peo- 
ple's actions  are  more  often  determined  by 
what  they  think  they  desire  than  by  what  they 
really  desire.  The  less  active  members  of  a 
community  often  do  in  fact  desire  wealth,  since 
it  enables  them  to  gratify  a  taste  for  passive 

1  Wliat  is  said  on  this  subject  in  the  present  lecture  is  only 
preliminary,  since  the  subsequent  lectures  all  deal  with  some 
aspect  of  the  same  problem. 


WAE  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        101 

enjoyment,  and  to  secure  respect  without  exer- 
tion. But  tlie  energetic  men  who  make  great 
fortunes  seldom  desire  the  actual  money:  they 
desire  ,the  sense  of  power  through  a  contest, 
and  the  joy  of  successful  activity.  For  this 
reason,  those  who  are  the  most  ruthless  in  mak- 
ing money  are  often  the  most  willing  to  give  it 
away;  there  are  many  notorious  examples  of 
this  among  American  millionaires.  The  only 
element  of  truth  in  the  economic  theory  that 
these  men  are  actuated  by  desire  for  money  is 
this:  owing  to  the  fact  that  money  is  what  is 
believed  to  be  desirable,  the  making  of  money 
is  recognized  as  the  test  of  success.  What  is  de- 
sired is  visible  and  indubitable  success ;  but  this 
can  only  be  achieved  by  being  one  of  the  few 
who  reach  a  goal  which  many  men  would  wish  to 
reach.  For  this  reason,  public  opinion  has  a 
great  influence  in  directing  the  activities  of 
vigorous  men.  In  America  a  millionaire  is 
more  respected  than  a  great  artist;  this  leads 
men  who  might  become  either  the  one  or  the 
other  to  choose  to  become  millionaires.  In 
Renaissance  Italy  great  artists  were  more  re- 
spected than  millionaires,  and  the  result  was  the 
opposite  of  what  it  is  in  America. 

Some  pacifists  and  all  militarists  deprecate 


102  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

social  and  political  conflicts.  In  tins  the  mili- 
tarists are  in  the  right,  from  their  point  of 
view;  but  the  pacifists  seem  to  me  mistaken. 
Conflicts  of  party  politics,  conflicts  between 
capital  and  labor,  and  generally  all  those  con- 
flicts of  principle  which  do  not  involve  war, 
serve  many  useful  purposes,  and  do  very  little 
harm.  They  increase  men's  interest  in  public 
affairs,  they  afford  a  comparatively  innocent 
outlet  for  the  love  of  contest,  and  they  help  to 
alter  laws  and  institutions,  when  changing  con- 
ditions or  greater  knowledge  create  the  wish 
for  an  alteration.  Everything  that  intensifies 
political  life  tends  to  bring  about  a  peaceful 
interest  of  the  same  kind  as  the  interest  which 
leads  to  desire  for  war.  And  in  a  democratic 
community  political  questions  give  every  voter 
a  sense  of  initiative  and  power  and  responsi- 
bility which  relieves  his  life  of  something  of  its 
narrow  unadventurousness.  The  object  of  the 
pacifist  should  be  to  give  men  more  and  more 
political  control  over  their  own  lives,  and  in 
particular  to  introduce  democracy  into  the  man- 
agement of  industry,  as  the  syndicalists  advise. 
The  problem  for  the  reflective  pacifist  is  two- 
fold :  how  to  keep  his  own  country  at  peace,  and 
how  to  preserve  the  peace  of  the  world.    It  is 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        103 

impossible  that  the  peace  of  the  world  should 
be  preserved  while  nations  are  liable  to  the 
mood  in  which  Germany  entered  upon  the  war 
— unless,  indeed,  one  nation  were  so  obviously 
stronger  than  all  others  combined  as  to  make 
war  unnecessary  for  that  one  and  hopeless  for 
all  the  others.  As  this  war  has  dragged  on  its 
weary  length,  many  people  must  have  asked 
themselves  whether  national  independence  is 
worth  the  price  that  has  to  be  paid  for  it. 
Would  it  not  perhaps  be  better  to  secure  uni- 
versal peace  by  the  supremacy  of  one  Power? 
"To  secure  peace  by  a  world  federation" — so 
a  submissive  pacifist  may  argue — "would  re- 
quire some  faint  glimmerings  of  reason  in 
rulers  and  peoples,  and  is  therefore  out  of  the 
question ;  but  to  secure  it  by  allowing  Germany 
to  dictate  terms  to  Europe  would  be  easy,  in 
view  of  Germany's  amazing  military  success. 
Since  there  is  no  other  way  of  ending  war" — 
so  our  advocate  of  peace  at  any  price  would 
contend — '  *  let  us  adopt  this  way,  which  happens 
at  the  moment  to  be  open  to  us."  It  is  worth 
while  to  consider  this  view  more  attentively 
than  is  commonly  considered. 

There  is  one  great  historic  example  of  a  long 
peace  secured  in  this  way;  I  mean  the  Roman 


104  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Empire.  We  in  England  boast  of  the  Pax  Bri- 
tannica  which  we  have  imposed,  in  this  way, 
upon  the  warring  races  and  religions  in  India. 
If  we  are  right  in  boasting  of  this,  if  we  have 
in  fact  conferred  a  benefit  upon  India  by  en- 
forced peace,  the  Germans  would  be  right  in 
boasting  if  they  could  impose  a  Pax  Germanica 
upon  Europe.  Before  the  war,  men  might  have 
said  that  India  and  Europe  are  not  analogous, 
because  India  is  less  civilized  than  Europe ;  but 
now,  I  hope,  no  one  would  have  the  effrontery 
to  maintain  anything  so  preposterous.  Re- 
peatedly in  modern  history  there  has  been  a 
chance  of  achieving  European  unity  by  the 
hegemony  of  a  single  State;  but  always  Eng- 
land, in  obedience  to  the  doctrine  of  the  Balance 
of  Power,  has  prevented  this  consummation, 
and  preserved  what  our  statesmen  have  called 
the  "liberties  of  Europe."  It  is  this  task  upon 
which  we  are  now  engaged.  But  I  do  not  think 
our  statesmen,  or  any  others  among  us,  have 
made  much  effort  to  consider  whether  the  task 
is  worth  what  it  costs. 

In  one  case  we  were  clearly  wrong:  in  our 
resistance  to  revolutionary  France.  If  revolu- 
tionary France  could  have  conquered  the  Con- 
tinent and  Great  Britain,  the  world  would  now 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        105 

be  happier,  more  civilized,  and  more  free,  as 
well  as  more  peaceful.  But  revolutionary 
France  was  a  quite  exceptional  case,  because 
its  early  conquests  were  made  in  the  name  of 
liberty,  against  tyrants,  not  against  peoples; 
and  everywhere  the  French  armies  were  wel- 
comed as  liberators  by  all  except  rulers  and 
bigots.  In  the  case  of  Philip  II  we  were  as 
clearly  right  as  we  were  wrong  in  1793.  But 
in  both  cases  our  action  is  not  to  be  judged  by 
some  abstract  diplomatic  conception  of  the 
''liberties  of  Europe,"  but  by  the  ideals  of  the 
Power  seeking  hegemony,  and  by  the  probable 
effect  upon  the  welfare  of  ordinary  men  and 
women  throughout  Europe. 

"Hegemony"  is  a  very  vague  word,  and 
everything  turns  upon  the  degree  of  interfer- 
ence with  liberty  which  it  involves.  There  is  a 
degree  of  interference  with  liberty  which  is 
fatal  to  many  forms  of  national  life;  for  ex- 
ample, Italy  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth 
centuries  was  crushed  by  the  supremacy  of 
Spain  and  Austria.  If  the  Germans  were  actu- 
ally to  annex  French  provinces,  as  they  did  in 
1871,  they  would  probably  inflict  a  serious  in- 
jury upon  those  provinces,  and  make  tliem  less 
fruitful  for  civilization  in  general.    For  suet 


106  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

reasons  national  liberty  is  a  matter  of  real  im- 
portance, and  a  Europe  actually  governed  by 
Germany  would  probably  be  very  dead  and  un- 
productive. But  if  ''hegemony"  merely  means 
increased  weight  in  diplomatic  questions,  more 
coaling  stations  and  possessions  in  Africa,  more 
power  of  securing  advantageous  commercial 
treaties,  then  it  can  hardly  be  supposed  that  it 
would  do  any  vital  damage  to  other  nations; 
certainly  it  would  not  do  so  much  damage  as  the 
present  war  is  doing.  I  cannot  doubt  that,  be- 
fore the  war,  a  hegemony  of  this  kind  would 
have  abundantly  satisfied  the  Germans.  But 
the  effect  of  the  war,  so  far,  has  been  to  in- 
crease immeasurably  all  the  dangers  which  it 
was  intended  to  avert.  We  have  now  only  the 
choice  between  certain  exhaustion  of  Europe  in 
fighting  Germany  and  possible  damage  to  the 
national  life  of  France  by  German  tyranny. 
Stated  in  terms  of  civilization  and  human  wel- 
fare, not  in  terms  of  national  prestige,  that  is 
now  in  fact  the  issue. 

Assuming  that  war  is  not  ended  by  one  State 
conquering  all  the  others,  the  only  way  in  which 
it  can  be  permanently  ended  is  by  a  wpjld- 
federation.  So  long  as  there  are  many  sover- 
eign States,  each  with  its  own  Army,  there  can 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        107 

be  no  security  that  there  will  not  be  war. 
There  will  have  to  be  in  the  world  only  one 
Army  and  one  Navy  before  there  will  be  any 
reason  to  think  that  wars  have  ceased.  This 
means  that,  so  far  as  the  military  functions  of 
the  State  are  concerned,  there  will  be  only  one 
State,  which  will  be  world-wide. 

The  civil  functions  of  the  State — legislative, 
administrative,  and  judicial — have  no  very  es- 
sential connection  with  the  military  functions, 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  both  kinds  of  func- 
tions should  normally  be  exercised  by  the 
same  State.  There  is,  in  fact,  every  reason 
why  the  civil  State  and  the  military  State 
should  be  different.  The  greater  modern 
States  are  already  too  large  for  most  civil  pur- 
poses, but  for  military  purposes  they  are  not 
large  enough,  since  they  are  not  world-wide. 
This  difference  as  to  the  desirable  area  for  the 
two  kinds  of  State  introduces  a  certain  perplex- 
ity and  hesitation,  when  it  is  not  realized  that 
the  two  functions  have  little  necessary  connec- 
tion: one  set  of  considerations  points  towards 
small  States,  the  other  towards  continually 
larger  States.  Of  course,  if  there  were  an  in- 
ternational Army  and  Navy,  there  would  have 
to  be  some  international  authority  to  set  them 


108  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

in  motion.  But  this  authority  need  never  con- 
cern itself  with  any  of  the  internal  affairs  of 
national  States:  it  need  only  declare  the  rules 
which  should  regulate  their  relations,  and  pro- 
nounce judicially  when  those  rules  have  been  so 
infringed  as  to  call  for  the  intervention  of  the 
international  force.  How  easily  the  limit  of 
the  authority  could  be  fixed  may  be  seen  by 
many  actual  examples. 

The  civil  and  military  State  are  often  differ- 
ent in  practice,  for  many  purposes.  The  South 
American  Republics  are  sovereign  for  all  pur- 
poses except  their  relations  with  Europe,  in  re- 
gard to  which  they  are  subject  to  the  United 
States :  in  dealings  with  Europe,  the  Army  and 
Navy  of  the  United  States  are  their  Army  and 
Navy.  Our  self-governing  Dominions  depend 
for  their  defense,  not  upon  their  own  forces  but 
upon  our  Navy.  Most  Governments,  nowa- 
days, do  not  aim  at  formal  annexation  of  a 
country  which  they  wish  to  incorporate,  but  only 
at  a  protectorate — that  is,  civil  autonomy  sub- 
ject to  military  control.  Such  autonomy  is,  of 
course,  in  practice  incomplete,  because  it  does 
not  enable  the  "protected"  country  to  adopt 
measures  which  are  vetoed  by  the  Power  in 
military  control.    But  it  may  be  very  nearly 


.  WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        109 

complete,  as  in  the  case  of  our  self-governing 
Dominions.  At  the  other  extreme,  it  may  be- 
come a  mere  farce,  as  in  Egypt.  In  the  case  of 
an  alliance,  there  is  complete  autonomy  of  the 
separate  allied  countries,  together  with  what 
is  practically  a  combination  of  their  military 
forces  into  one  single  force. 

The  great  advantage  of  a  large  military 
State  is  that  it  increases  the  area  over  which 
internal  war  is  not  possible  except  by  revolu- 
tion. If  England  and  Canada  have  a  disagree- 
ment, it  is  taken  as  a  matter  of  course  that  a 
settlement  shall  be  arrived  at  by  discussion,  not 
by  force.  Still  more  is  this  the  case  if  Man- 
chester and  Liverpool  have  a  quarrel,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  each  is  autonomous  for  many 
local  purposes.  No  one  would  have  thought  it 
reasonable  that  Liverpool  should  go  to  war  to 
prevent  the  construction  of  the  Manchester 
Ship  Canal,  although  almost  any  two  Great 
Powers  would  have  gone  to  war  over  an  issue 
of  the  same  relative  importance.  England  and 
Russia  would  probably  have  gone  to  war  over 
Persia  if  they  had  not  been  allies ;  as  it  is,  they 
arrived  by  diplomacy  at  much  the  same  iniqui- 
tous result  as  they  would  otherwise  have 
reached    by    fighting.    Australia    and    Japan 


110  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

would  probably  fight  if  they  were  both  com- 
pletely independent;  but  both  depend  for  their 
liberties  upon  the  British  Navy,  and  therefore 
they  have  to  adjust  their  differences  peaceably. 
The  chief  disadvantage  of  a  large  military 
State  is  that,  when  external  war  occurs,  the  area 
affected  is  greater.  The  quadruple  Entente 
forms,  for  the  present,  one  military  State;  the 
result  is  that,  because  of  a  dispute  between  Aus- 
tria and  Serbia,  Belgium  is  devastated  and  Aus- 
tralians are  killed  in  the  Dardanelles.  Another 
disadvantage  is  that  it  facilitates  oppression. 
A  large  military  State  is  practically  omnipotent 
against  a  small  State,  and  can  impose  its  will, 
as  England  and  Russia  did  in  Persia  and  as 
Austria-Hungary  has  been  doing  in  Serbia.  It 
is  impossible  to  make  sure  of  avoiding  oppres- 
sion by  any  purely  mechanical  guarantees ;  only 
a  liberal  and  humane  spirit  can  afford  a  real 
protection.  It  has  been  perfectly  possible  for 
England  to  oppress  Ireland,  in  spite  of  democ- 
racy and  the  presence  of  Irish  Members  at 
Westminster.  Nor  has  the  presence  of  Poles 
in  the  Reichstag  prevented  the  oppression  of 
Prussian  Poland.  But  democracy  and  repre- 
sentative government  undoubtedly  make  op- 
pression less  probable :  they  afford  a  means  by 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        111 

which  those  who  might  be  oppressed  can  cause 
their  wishes  and  grievances  to  be  publicly 
known,  they  render  it  certain  that  only  a  minor- 
ity can  be  oppressed,  and  then  only  if  the  ma- 
jority are  nearly  unanimous  in  wishing  to  op- 
press them.  Also  the  practice  of  oppression 
affords  much  more  pleasure  to  the  governing 
classes,  who  actually  carry  it  out,  than  to  the 
mass  of  the  population.  For  this  reason  the 
mass  of  the  population,  where  it  has  power,  is 
likely  to  be  less  tjTannical  than  an  oligarchy  or 
a  bureaucracy. 

In  order  to  prevent  war  and  at  the  same 
time  preserve  liberty  it  is  necessary  that  there 
should  be  only  one  military  State  in  the  world, 
and  that  when  disputes  between  different  coun- 
tries arise,  it  should  act  according  to  the  de- 
cision of  a  central  authority.  This  is  what 
would  naturally  result  from  a  federation  of  the 
world,  if  such  a  thing  ever  came  about.  But 
the  prospect  is  remote,  and  it  is  worth  while 
to  consider  why  it  is  so  remote. 

The  unity  of  a  nation  is  produced  by  similar 
habits,  instinctive  liking,  a  common  history, 
and  a  common  pride.  The  unity  of  a  nation  is 
partly  due  to  intrinsic  affinities  between  its 
citizens,  but  partly  also  to  the  pressure  and  con- 


112  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

trast  of  the  outside  world:  if  a  nation  were 
isolated,  it  would  not  have  the  same  cohesion 
or  the  same  fervor  of  patriotism.  When  we 
come  to  alliances  of  nations,  it  is  seldom  any- 
thing except  outside  pressure  that  produces 
solidarity.  England  and  America,  to  some  ex- 
tent, are  drawn  together  by  the  same  causes 
which  often  make  national  unity:  a  (more  or 
less)  common  language,  similar  political  insti- 
tutions, similar  aims  in  international  politics. 
But  England,  France,  and  Russia  were  drawn 
together  solely  by  fear  of  Germany;  if  Ger- 
many had  been  annihilated  by  a  natural  cata- 
clysm, they  would  at  once  have  begun  to  hate 
one  another,  as  they  did  before  Germany  was 
strong.  For  this  reason,  the  possibility  of  co- 
operation in  the  present  alliance  against  Ger- 
many affords  no  ground  whatever  for  hoping 
that  all  the  nations  of  the  world  might  cooper- 
ate permanently  in  a  peaceful  alliance.  The 
present  motive  for  cohesion,  namely  a  common 
fear,  would  be  gone,  and  could  not  be  replaced 
by  any  other  motive  unless  men's  thoughts  and 
purposes  were  very  different  from  what  they 
are  now. 

The  ultimate  fact  from  which  war  results  is 
not  economic  or  political,  and  does  not  rest 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        113 

upon  any  mechanical  difficulty  of  inventing 
means  for  the  peaceful  settlement  of  interna- 
tional disputes.  The  ultimate  fact  from  which 
war  results  is  the  fact  that  a  large  proportion 
of  mankind  have  an  impulse  to  conflict  rather 
than  harmony,  and  can  only  be  brought  to  co- 
operate with  others  in  resisting  or  attacking  a 
common  enemy.  This  is  the  case  in  private 
life  as  w^ell  as  in  the  relations  of  States.  Most 
men,  when  they  feel  themselves  suflficiently 
strong,  set  to  work  to  make  themselves  feared 
rather  than  loved;  the  wish  to  gain  the  good 
opinion  of  others  is  confined,  as  a  rule,  to  those 
who  have  not  acquired  secure  power.  The  im- 
pulse to  quarreling  and  self-assertion,  the 
pleasure  of  getting  one's  own  way  in  spite  of 
opposition,  is  native  to  most  men.  It  is  this 
impulse,  rather  than  any  motive  of  calculated 
self-interest,  which  produces  war,  and  causes 
the  difficulty  of  bringing  about  a  World-State. 
And  this  impulse  is  not  confined  to  one  nation ; 
it  exists,  in  varying  degrees,  in  all  the  vigorous 
nations  of  the  world. 

But  although  this  impulse  is  strong,  there  is 
no  reason  why  it  should  be  allowed  to  lead  to 
war.  It  was  exactly  the  same  impulse  which 
led  to  duelling;  yet  now  civilized  men  conduct 


114  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

their  private  quarrels  without  bloodshed.  If 
political  contest  within  a  World-State  were 
substituted  for  w^ar,  imagination  would  soon 
accustom  itself  to  the  new  situation,  as  it  has 
accustomed  itself  to  absence  of  duelling. 
Through  the  influence  of  institutions  and  habits, 
without  any  fundamental  change  in  human  na- 
ture, men  would  leani  to  look  back  upon  war  as 
we  look  upon  the  burning  of  heretics  or  upon 
human  sacrifice  to  heathen  deities.  If  I  were  to 
buy  a  revolver  costing  several  pounds,  in  order 
to  shoot  my  friend  with  a  view  to  stealing  six- 
pence out  of  his  pocket,  I  should  be  thought 
neither  very  wise  nor  very  virtuous.  But  if  I 
can  get  sixty-five  million  accomplices  to  join  me 
in  this  criminal  absurdity,  I  become  one  of  a 
great  and  glorious  nation,  nobly  sacrificing  the 
cost  of  my  revolver,  perhaps  even  my  life,  in 
order  to  secure  the  sixpence  for  the  honor  of 
my  country.  Historians,  who  are  almost  in- 
variably sycophants,  will  praise  me  and  my  ac- 
complices if  we  are  successful,  and  say  that  we 
are  worthy  successors  of  the  heroes  who  over- 
threw the  might  of  Imperial  Rome.  But  if  my 
opponents  are  victorious,  if  their  sixpences  are 
defended  at  the  cost  of  many  pounds  each  and 
the  lives  of  a  large  proportion  of  the  popula- 


WAR  AS  AN  INSTITUTION        115 

tion,  then  historians  will  call  me  a  brigand  (as  I 
am),  and  praise  the  spirit  and  self-sacrifice  of 
those  who  resisted  me. 

War  is  surrounded  with  glamour,  by  tradi- 
tion, by  Homer  and  the  Old  Testament  by  early 
education,  by  elaborate  myths  as  to  the  impor- 
tance of  the  issues  involved,  by  the  heroism  and 
self-sacrifice,  which  these  myths  call  out.  Jeph- 
thah  sacrificing  his  daughter  is  a  heroic  figure, 
but  he  would  have  let  her  live  if  he  had  not  been 
deceived  by  a  myth.  Mothers  sending  their  sons 
to  the  battlefield  are  heroic,  but  they  are  as 
much  deceived  as  Jephthah.  And,  in  both  cases 
alike,  the  heroism  which  issues  in  cruelty  would 
be  dispelled  if  there  were  not  some  strain  of 
barbarism  in  the  imaginative  outlook  from 
which  myths  spring.  A  God  wlio  can  be  pleased 
by  the  sacrifice  of  an  innocent  girl  could  only 
be  worshiped  by  men  to  whom  the  thought  of 
receiving  such  a  sacrifice  is  not  wholly  abhor- 
rent. A  nation  which  believes  that  its  welfare 
can  only  be  secured  by  suffering  and  inflicting 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  equally  horrible  sacri- 
fices, is  a  nation  which  has  no  very  spiritual  con- 
ception of  what  constitutes  national  welfare. 
It  would  be  better  a  hundredfold  to  forgo  ma- 
terial comfort,  power,  pomp,  and  outward  glory 


116  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

than  to  kill  and  be  killed,  to  hate  and  be  hated, 
to  throw  away  in  a  mad  moment  of  fury  the 
bright  heritage  of  the  ages.  We  have  learnt 
gradually  to  free  our  God  from  the  savagery 
with  which  the  primitive  Israelites  and  the 
Fathers  endowed  Him:  few  of  us  now  believe 
that  it  is  His  pleasure  to  torture  most  of  the 
human  race  in  an  eternity  of  hell-fire.  But  we 
have  not  yet  learnt  to  free  our  national  ideals 
from  the  ancient  taint.  Devotion  to  the  nation 
is  perhaps  the  deepest  and  most  widespread  re- 
ligion of  the  present  age.  Like  the  ancient  re- 
ligions, it  demands  its  persecutions,  its  holo- 
causts, its  lurid  heroic  cruelties ;  like  them,  it  is 
noble,  primitive,  brutal,  and  mad.  Now,  as  in 
the  past,  religion,  lagging  behind  private  con- 
sciences through  the  weight  of  tradition,  steels 
the  hearts  of  men  against  mercy  and  their  minds 
against  truth.  If  the  world  is  to  be  saved,  men 
must  learn  to  be  noble  without  being  cruel,  to  be 
filled  with  faith  and  yet  open  to  truth,  to  be 
inspired  by  great  purposes  without  hating  those 
who  try  to  thwart  them.  But  before  this  can 
happen,  men  must  first  face  the  terrible  realiza- 
tion that  the  gods  before  whom  they  have  bowed 
down  were  false  gods  and  the  sacrifices  they 
have  made  were  vain. 


IV 

PROPERTY 

AMONG  the  many  gloomy  novelists  of  the 
realistic  school,  perhaps  the  most  full  of 
gloom  is  Gissing.  In  common  with  all  his  char- 
acters, he  lives  under  the  weight  of  a  great  op- 
pression: the  power  of  the  fearful  and  yet 
adored  idol  of  Money.  One  of  his  typical 
stories  is  ''Eve's  Ransom,"  where  the  heroine, 
with  various  discreditable  subterfuges,  throws 
over  the  poor  man  whom  she  loves  in  order  to 
marry  the  rich  man  whose  income  she  loves  still 
better.  The  poor  man,  finding  that  the  rich 
man's  income  has  given  her  a  fuller  life  and  a 
better  character  than  the  poor  man's  love  could 
have  given  her,  decides  that  she  has  done  quite 
right,  and  that  he  deserves  to  be  punished  for 
his  lack  of  money.  In  this  story,  as  in  his  other 
books,  Gissing  has  set  forth,  quite  accurately, 
the  actual  dominion  of  money,  and  the  imper- 
sonal worship  which  it  exacts  from  the  great 
majority  of  civilized  mankind. 

Gissing 's  facts  are  undeniable,  and  yet  his 
117 


118  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

attitude  produces  a  revolt  in  any  reader  who 
has  vital  passions  and  masterful  desires.  His 
worship  of  money  is  bound  up  with  his  con- 
sciousness of  inward  defeat.  And  in  the 
modern  world  generally,  it  is  the  decay  of  life 
which  has  promoted  the  religion  of  material 
goods;  and  the  religion  of  material  goods,  in 
its  turn,  has  hastened  the  decay  of  life  on  which 
it  thrives.  The  man  who  worships  money  has 
ceased  to  hope  for  happiness  through  his  own 
efforts  or  in  his  own  activities:  he  looks  upon 
happiness  as  a  passive  enjoyment  of  pleasures 
derived  from  the  outside  world.  The  artist  or 
the  lover  does  not  worship  money  in  his  mo- 
ments of  ardor,  because  his  desires  are  specific, 
and  directed  towards  objects  which  only  he  can 
create.  And  conversely,  the  worshiper  of 
money  can  never  achieve  greatness  as  an  artist 
or  a  lover. 

Love  of  money  has  been  denounced  by 
moralists  since  the  world  began.  I  do  not  wish 
to  add  another  to  the  moral  denunciations,  of 
which  the  efficacy  in  the  past  has  not  been  en- 
couraging. I  wish  to  show  how  the  worship  of 
money  is  both  an  effect  and  a  cause  of  diminish- 
ing vitality,  and  liow  our  institutions  might  be 
changed  so  as  to  make  the  worship  of  money 


PROPERTY  119 

grow  less  and  the  general  vitality  grow  more. 
It  is  not  the  desire  for  money  as  a  means  to  defi- 
nite ends  that  is  in  question.  A  struggling 
artist  may  desire  money  in  order  to  have  leisure 
for  his  art,  but  this  desire  is  finite,  and  can  be 
satisfied  fully  by  a  very  modest  sum.  It  is  the 
worship  of  money  that  I  wish  to  consider:  the 
belief  that  all  values  may  be  measured  in  terms 
of  money,  and  that  money  is  the  ultimate  test 
of  success  in  life.  This  belief  is  held  in  fact, 
if  not  in  words,  by  multitudes  of  men  and 
women,  and  yet  it  is  not  in  harmony  with  human 
nature,  since  it  ignores  vital  needs  and  the  in- 
stinctive tendency  towards  some  specific  kind 
of  growth.  It  makes  men  treat  as  unimportant 
those  of  their  desires  which  run  counter  to  the 
acquisition  of  money,  and  yet  such  desires  are, 
as  a  rule,  more  important  to  well-being  than  any 
increase  of  income.  It  leads  men  to  mutilate 
their  own  natures  from  a  mistaken  theory  of 
what  constitutes  success,  and  to  give  admiration 
to  enterprises  which  add  notliing  to  human  wel- 
fare. It  promotes  a  dead  uniformity  of  char- 
acter and  purpose,  a  diminution  in  the  joy  of 
life,  and  a  stress  and  strain  which  leaves  whole 
communities  weary,  discouraged,  and  disillu- 
sioned. 


120  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

America,  the  pioneer  of  Western  progress,  is 
thought  by  many  to  display  the  worship  of 
money  in  its  most  perfect  form.  A  well-to-do 
American,  who  already  has  more  than  enough 
money  to  satisfy  all  reasonable  requirements, 
almost  always  continues  to  work  at  his  office 
with  an  assiduity  which  would  only  be  pardon- 
able if  starvation  were  the  alternative. 

But  England,  except  among  a  small  minority, 
is  almost  as  much  given  over  to  the  worship  of 
money  as  America.  Love  of  money  in  Eng- 
land takes,  as  a  rule,  the  form  of  snobbishly  de- 
siring to  maintain  a  certain  social  status,  rather 
than  of  striving  after  an  indefinite  increase  of 
income.  Men  postpone  marriage  until  they 
have  an  income  enabling  them  to  have  as 
many  rooms  and  servants  in  their  house 
as  they  feel  that  their  dignity  requires.  This 
makes  it  necessary  for  them  while  they  are 
young  to  keep  a  watch  upon  their  affections,  lest 
they  should  be  led  into  an  imprudence :  they  ac- 
quire a  cautious  habit  of  mind,  and  a  fear  of 
''giving  themselves  away,"  which  makes  a  free 
and  vigorous  life  impossible.  In  acting  as  they 
do  they  imagine  that  they  are  being  virtuous, 
since  they  would  feel  it  a  hardship  for  a  woman 
to  be  asked  to  descend  to  a  lower  social  status 


PROPEETY  121 

than  that  of  her  parents,  and  a  degradation  to 
themselves  to  marry  a  woman  whose  social 
status  was  not  equal  to  their  own.  The  things 
of  nature  are  not  valued  in  comparison  with 
money.  It  is  not  thought  a  hardship  for  a 
woman  to  have  to  accept,  as  her  only  experience 
of  love,  the  prudent  and  limited  attentions  of  a 
man  whose  capacity  for  emotion  has  been  lost 
during  j^ears  of  wise  restraint  or  sordid  rela- 
tions with  women  whom  he  did  not  respect. 
The  woman  herself  does  not  know  that  it  is  a 
hardship ;  for  she,  too,  has  been  taught  prudence 
for  fear  of  a  descent  in  the  social  scale,  and 
from  early  yoiith  she  has  had  it  instilled  into 
her  that  strong  feeling  does  not  become  a  young 
woman.  So  the  two  unite  to  slip  through  life 
in  ignorance  of  all  that  is  worth  knowing. 
Their  ancestors  were  not  restrained  from  pas- 
sion by  the  fear  of  hell-fire,  but  they  are  re- 
strained effectually  by  a  worse  fear,  the  fear  of 
coming  down  in  the  world. 

The  same  motives  which  lead  men  to  marry 
late  also  lead  them  to  limit  their  families.  Pro- 
fessional men  wish  to  send  their  sons  to  a  pub- 
lic school,  though  the  education  they  will  ob- 
tain is  no  better  than  at  a  grammar  school,  and 
the  companions  with  whom  they  will  associate 


122  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

are  more  vicious.  But  snobdom  has  decided 
that  public  schools  are  best,  and  from  its  ver- 
dict there  is  no  appeal.  What  makes  them  the 
best  is  that  they  are  the  most  expensive.  And 
the  same  social  struggle,  in  varying  forms, 
runs  through  all  classes  except  the  very  highest 
and  the  very  lowest.  For  this  purpose  men 
and  women  make  great  moral  efforts,  and  show 
amazing  powers  of  self-control ;  but  all  their  ef- 
forts and  all  their  self-control,  being  not  used 
for  any  creative  end,  serve  merely  to  dry  up  the 
well-spring  of  life  within  them,  to  niake  them 
feeble,  listless,  and  trivial.  It  is  not  in 
such  a  soil  that  the  passion  which  produces 
genius  can  be  nourished.  Men's  souls  have 
exchanged  the  wilderness  for  the  drawing-room : 
they  have  become  cramped  and  petty  and  de- 
formed, like  Chinese  women's  feet.  Even  the 
horrors  of  war  have  hardly  awakened  them 
from  the  smug  somnambulism  of  respectability. 
And  it  is  chiefly  the  worship  of  money  that  has 
brought  about  this  deathlike  slumber  of  all  that 
makes  men  great. 

In  France  the  worship  of  money  takes  the 
form  of  thrift.  It  is  not  easy  to  make  a  fortune 
in  France,  but  an  inherited  competence  is  very 
common,  and  where  it  exists  the  main  purpose 


PEOPEETY  123 

of  life  is  to  hand  it  on  undiminished,  if  not  in- 
creased. The  French  rentier  is  one  of  the  great 
forces  in  international  politics :  it  is  he  through 
whom  France  has  been  strengthened  in  diplo- 
macy and  weakened  in  war,  by  increasing  the 
supply  of  French  capital  and  diminishing  the 
supply  of  French  men.  The  necessity  of  pro- 
viding a  dot  for  daughters,  and  the  subdivision 
of  property  by  the  law  of  inheritance,  have  made 
the  family  more  powerful,  as  an  institution, 
than  in  any  other  civilized  country.  In  order 
that  the  family  may  prosper,  it  is  kept  small, 
and  the  individual  members  are  often  sacrificed 
to  it.  The  desire  for  family  continuity  makes 
men  timid  and  unadventurous :  it  is  only  in 
the  organized  proletariat  that  the  daring  spirit 
survives  which  made  the  Eevolution  and  led 
the  world  in  political  thought  and  practice. 
Through  the  influence  of  money,  the  strength 
of  the  family  has  become  a  weakness  to  the  na- 
tion by  making  the  population  remain  station- 
ary and  even  tend  to  decline.  The  same  love 
of  safety  is  beginning  to  produce  the  same  ef- 
fects elsewhere;  but  in  this,  as  in  many  better 
things,  France  has  led  the  way. 

In  Germany  the  worship  of  money  is  more 
recent  than  in  France,  England,  and  America; 


124  -^  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

indeed,  it  hardly  existed  until  after  the  Franco- 
Prussian  War.  But  it  has  been  adopted  now 
with  the  same  intensity  and  whole-heartedness 
which  have  always  marked  German  beliefs.  It 
is  characteristic  that,  as  in  France  the  worship 
of  money  is  associated  with  the  family,  so  in 
Germany  it  is  associated  with  the  State.  Liszt, 
in  deliberate  revolt  against  the  English  econo- 
mists, taught  his  compatriots  to  think  of  eco- 
nomics in  national  terms,  and  the  German  who 
develops  a  business  is  felt,  by  others  as  well  as 
by  himself,  to  be  performing  a  service  to  the 
State.  Germans  believe  that  England's  great- 
ness is  due  to  industrialism  and  Empire,  and 
that  our  success  in  these  is  due  to  an  intense 
nationalism.  The  apparent  internationalism  of 
our  Free  Trade  policy  they  regard  as  mere  hy- 
pocrisy. They  have  set  themselves  to  imitate 
what  they  believe  we  really  are,  with  only  the 
hypocrisy  omitted.  It  must  be  admitted  that 
their  success  has  been  amazing.  But  in  the 
process  they  have  destroyed  almost  all  that 
made  Germany  of  value  to  the  world,  and  they 
have  not  adopted  whatever  of  good  there  may 
Have  been  among  us,  since  that  was  all  swept 
aside  in  the  wholesale  condemnation  of  *4iy- 
pocrisy."    And  in  adopting  our  worst  faults, 


PEOPERTY  125 

they  have  made  them  far  worse  by  a  system,  a 
thoroughness,  and  a  unanimity  of  which  we  are 
happily  incapable.  Germany's  religion  is  of 
great  importance  to  the  world,  since  Germans 
have  a  power  of  real  belief,  and  have  the  energy 
to  acquire  the  virtues  and  vices  which  their 
creed  demands.  For  the  sake  of  the  world,  as 
well  as  for  the  sake  of  Germany,  we  must  hope 
that  they  will  soon  abandon  the  worship  of 
wealth  which  they  have  unfortunately  learnt 
from  us. 

AVorship  of  money  is  no  new  thing,  but  it  is 
a  more  harmful  thing  than  it  used  to  be,  for 
several  reasons.  Industrialism  has  made  work 
more  wearisome  and  intense,  less  capable  of 
affording  pleasure  and  interest  by  the  way  to 
the  man  who  has  undertaken  it  for  the  sake  of 
money.  The  power  of  limiting  families  has 
opened  a  new  field  for  the  operation  of  thrift. 
The  general  increase  in  education  and  self-disci- 
pline has  made  men  more  capable  of  pursuing 
a  purpose  consistently  in  spite  of  temptations, 
and  when  the  purpose  is  against  life  it  becomes 
more  destructive  with  every  increase  of  tenacity 
in  those  who  adopt  it.  The  greater  produc- 
tivity resulting  from  industrialism  has  en- 
abled us  to  devote  more  labor  and  capital  to 


126  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

armies  and  navies  for  the  protection  of  our 
wealth  from  envious  neighbors,  and  for  the  ex- 
ploitation of  inferior  races,  which  are  ruthlessly 
wasted  by  the  capitalist  regime.  Through  the 
fear  of  losing  money,  forethought  and  anxiety 
eat  away  men's  power  of  happiness,  and  the 
dread  of  misfortune  becomes  a  greater  misfor- 
tune than  the  one  which  is  dreaded.  The  hap- 
piest men  and  women,  as  we  can  all  testify  from 
our  own  experience,  are  those  who  are  indif- 
ferent to  money  because  they  have  some  posi- 
tive purpose  which  shuts  it  out.  And  yet  all 
our  political  thought,  whether  imperialist,  rad- 
ical, or  socialist,  continues  to  occupy  itself  al- 
most exclusively  with  men's  economic  desires, 
as  though  they  alone  had  real  importance. 

In  judging  of  an  industrial  system,  whether 
the  one  under  which  we  live  or  one  proposed  by 
reformers,  there  are  four  main  tests  which  may 
be  applied.  We  may  consider  whether  the  sys- 
tem secures  (1)  the  maximum  of  production,  or 
(2)  justice  in  distribution,  or  (3)  a  tolerable  ex- 
istence for  producers,  or  (4)  the  greatest  pos- 
sible freedom  and  stimulus  to  vitality  and  prog- 
ress. We  may  say,  broadly,  that  the  present 
system  aims  only  at  the  first  of  these  objects, 
while  socialism  aims  at  the  second  and  third. 


PROPERTY  127 

Some  defenders  of  the  present  system  contend 
that  technical  progress  is  better  promoted  by 
private  enterprise  than  it  would  be  if  indus- 
tiy  were  in  the  hands  of  the  State ;  to  this  ex- 
tent they  recognize  the  fourth  of  the  objects 
we  have  enumerated.  But  they  recognize  it 
only  on  the  side  of  the  goods  and  the  capitalist, 
not  on  the  side  of  the  wage-earner.  I  believe 
that  the  fourth  is  much  the  most  important  of 
the  objects  to  be  aimed  at,  that  the  present  sys- 
tem is  fatal  to  it,  and  that  orthodox  socialism 
might  well  prove  equally  fatal. 

One  of  the  least  questioned  assumptions  of 
the  capitalist  system  is,  that  production  ought 
to  be  increased  in  amount  by  every  possible 
means :  by  new  kinds  of  machinery,  by  employ- 
ment of  women  and  boys,  by  making  hours  of 
labor  as  long  as  is  compatible  with  efficiency. 
Central  African  natives,  accustomed  to  living 
on  raw  fruits  of  the  earth  and  defeating  Man- 
chester by  dispensing  with  clothes,  are  com- 
pelled to  work  by  a  hut  tax  which  they  can  only 
pay  by  taking  employment  under  European  cap- 
italists. It  is  admitted  that  they  are  perfectly 
happy  while  they  remain  free  from  European 
influences,  and  that  industrialism  brings  upon 
them,  not  only  the  unwonted  misery  of  confine- 


128  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ment,  but  also  death  from  diseases  to  which 
white  men  have  become  partially  immune.  It 
is  admitted  that  the  best  negro  workers  are  the 
''raw  natives,"  fresh  from  the  bush,  uncontami- 
nated  by  previous  experience  of  wage-earning. 
Nevertheless,  no  one  effectively  contends  that 
they  ought  to  be  preserved  from  the  deteriora- 
tion which  we  bring,  since  no  one  effectively 
doubts  that  it  is  good  to  increase  the  world's 
production  at  no  matter  what  cost. 

The  belief  in  the  importance  of  production 
has  a  fanatical  irrationality  and  ruthlessness. 
So  long  as  something  is  produced,  what  it  is 
that  is  produced  seems  to  be  thought  a  matter 
of  no  account.  Our  whole  economic  system  en- 
courages this  view,  since  fear  of  unemployment 
makes  any  kind  of  work  a  boon  to  wage-earn- 
ers. The  mania  for  increasing  production  has 
turned  men's  thoughts  away  from  much  more 
important  problems,  and  has  prevented  the 
world  from  getting  the  benefits  it  might  have 
got  out  of  the  increased  productivity  of  labor. 

When  we  are  fed  and  clothed  and  housed, 
further  material  goods  are  needed  only  for  os- 
tentation.^    With  modern  methods,   a   certain 

1  Except  by  that  small  minority  who  are  capable  of  artistic 
enjoyment. 


PROPEETY  129 

proportion  of  the  population,  without  working 
long  hours,  could  do  all  the  work  that  is  really 
necessary  in  the  way  of  producing  commodi- 
ties. The  time  which  is  now  spent  in  produc- 
ing luxuries  could  be  spent  partly  in  enjoyment 
and  country  holidays,  partly  in  better  educa- 
tion, partly  in  work  that  is  not  manual  or  sub- 
serving manual  work.  We  could,  if  we  wished, 
have  far  more  science  and  art,  more  diffused 
knowledge  and  mental  cultivation,  more  leisure 
for  wage-earners,  and  more  capacity  for  intelli- 
gent pleasures.  At  present  not  only  wages,  but 
ahnost  all  earned  incomes,  can  only  be  obtained 
by  working  much  longer  hours  than  men  ought 
to  work.  A  man  who  earns  £800  a  year  by  hard 
work  could  not,  as  a  rule,  earn  £400  a  year  by 
half  as  much  work.  Often  he  could  not  earn 
anything  if  he  were  not  willing  to  work  prac- 
tically all  day  and  every  day.  Because  of  the 
excessive  belief  in  the  value  of  production,  it 
is  thought  right  and  proper  for  men  to  work 
long  hours,  and  the  good  that  might  result  from 
shorter  hours  is  not  realized.  And  all  the  cruel- 
ties of  the  industrial  system,  not  only  in  Europe 
but  even  more  in  the  tropics,  arouse  only  an 
occasional  feeble  protest  from  a  few  philanthro- 
pists.    This  is  because,  owing  to  the  distortion 


130  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

produced  by  our  present  economic  methods, 
men's  conscious  desires,  in  such  matters,  cover 
only  a  very  small  part,  and  that  not  the  most 
important  part,  of  the  real  needs  affected  by 
industrial  work.  If  this  is  to  be  remedied,  it 
can  only  be  by  a  different  economic  system,  in 
which  the  relation  of  activity  to  needs  will  be 
less  concealed  and  more  direct. 

The  purpose  of  maximizing  production  will 
not  be  achieved  in  the  long  run  if  our  present 
industrial  system  continues.  Our  present  sys- 
tem is  wasteful  of  human  material,  partly 
through  damage  to  the  health  and  efficiency  of 
industrial  workers,  especially  when  women  and 
children  are  employed,  partly  through  the  fact 
that  the  best  workers  tend  to  have  small  fam- 
ilies and  that  the  more  civilized  races  are  in 
danger  of  gradual  extinction.  Every  great 
city  is  a  center  of  race-deterioration.  For  the 
case  of  London  this  has  been  argued  with  a 
wealth  of  statistical  detail  by  Sir  H.  Llewelyn 
Smith ;  ^  and  it  cannot  easily  be  doubted  that  it 
is  equally  true  in  other  cases.  The  same  is  true 
of  material  resources:  the  minerals,  the  virgin 
forests,  and  the  newly  developed  wheatfields  of 
the  world  are  being  exhausted  with  a  reckless 

1  Booth's  "  Life  and  Labour  of  the  People,"  vol.  iii. 


PEOPERTY  131 

prodigality  which  entails  almost  a  certainty  of 
hardship  for  future  generations. 

Socialists  see  the  remedy  in  State  ownership 
of  land  and  capital,  combined  with  a  more  just 
system  of  distribution.  It  cannot  be  denied  that 
our  present  system  of  distribution  is  indefen- 
sible from  every  point  of  view,  including  the 
point  of  view  of  justice.  Our  system  of  distri- 
bution is  regulated  by  law,  and  is  capable  of 
being  changed  in  many  respects  which  familiar- 
ity makes  us  regard  as  natural  and  inevitable. 
We  may  distinguish  four  chief  sources  of  rec- 
ognized legal  rights  to  private  property:  (1)  a 
man's  right  to  what  he  has  made  himself;  (2) 
the  right  to  interest  on  capital  which  has  been 
lent;  (3)  the  ownership  of  land;  (4)  inheritance. 
These  form  a  crescendo  of  respectability:  cap- 
ital is  more  respectable  than  labor,  land  is  more 
respectable  than  capital,  and  any  form  of 
wealth  is  more  respectable  when  it  is  inherited 
than  when  it  has  been  acquired  by  our  own  ex- 
ertions. 

A  man's  right  to  the  produce  of  his  own  la- 
bor has  never,  in  fact,  had  more  than  a  very  lim- 
ited recognition  from  the  law.  The  early  so- 
cialists, especially  the  English  forerunners  of 
Marx,  used  to  insist  upon  this  right  as  the  basis 


132  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

of  a  just  system  of  distribution,  but  in  the  com- 
plication of  modern  industrial  processes  it  is 
impossible  to  say  what  a  man  has  produced. 
What  proportion  of  the  goods  carried  by  a  rail- 
way should  belong  to  the  goods  porters  con- 
cerned in  their  journey?  When  a  surgeon  saves 
a  man's  life  by  an  operation,  what  proportion 
of  the  commodities  which  the  man  subsequently 
produces  can  the  surgeon  justly  claim?  Such 
problems  are  insoluble.  And  there  is  no  spe- 
cial justice,  even  if  they  were  soluble,  in  allow- 
ing to  each  man  what  he  himself  produces. 
Some  men  are  stronger,  healthier,  cleverer, 
than  others,  but  there  is  no  reason  for  increas- 
ing these  natural  injustices  by  the  artificial  in- 
justices of  the  law.  The  principle  recommends 
itself  partly  as  a  way  of  abolishing  the  very 
rich,  partly  as  a  way  of  stimulating  people  to 
work  hard.  But  the  first  of  these  objects  can 
be  better  obtained  in  other  ways,  and  the  second 
ceases  to  be  obviously  desirable  as  soon  as  we 
cease  to  worship  money. 

Interest  arises  naturally  in  any  community 
in  which  private  property  is  unrestricted  and 
theft  is  punished,  because  some  of  the  most  eco- 
nomical processes  of  production  are  slow,  and 
those  who  have  the  skill  to  perform  them  may 


PROPERTY  133 

not  have  tlie  means  of  living  while  they  are 
being  completed.  But  the  power  of  lending 
money  gives  such  great  wealth  and  influence  to 
private  capitalists  that  unless  strictly  controlled 
it  is  not  compatible  with  any  real  freedom  for 
the  rest  of  the  population.  Its  effects  at  pres- 
ent, both  in  the  industrial  world  and  in  interna- 
tional politics,  are  so  bad  that  it  seems  impera- 
tively necessary  to  devise  some  means  of  curb- 
ing its  power. 

Private  property  in  land  has  no  justification 
except  historically  through  power  of  the  sword. 
In  the  beginning  of  feudal  times,  certain  men 
had  enough  military  strength  to  be  able  to  force 
those  whom  they  disliked  not  to  live  in  a  cer- 
tain area.  Those  whom  they  chose  to  leave  on 
the  land  became  their  serfs,  and  were  forced  to 
work  for  them  in  return  for  the  gracious  per- 
mission to  stay.  In  order  to  establish  law  in 
place  of  private  force,  it  was  necessary,  in  the 
main,  to  leave  undisturbed  the  rights  which  had 
been  acquired  by  the  sword.  The  land  became 
the  property  of  those  who  had  conquered  it,  and 
the  serfs  were  allowed  to  give  rent  instead  of 
service.  There  is  no  justification  for  private 
property  in  land,  except  the  historical  necessity 
to  conciliate  turbulent  robbers  who  would  not 


134  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

otherwise  have  obeyed  the  law.  This  neces- 
sity arose  in  Europe  many  centuries  ago,  but 
in  Africa  the  whole  process  is  often  quite  re- 
cent. It  is  by  this  process,  slightly  disguised, 
that  the  Kimberley  diamond  mines  and  the 
Eand  gold  mines  were  acquired  in  spite  of  prior 
native  rights.  It  is  a  singular  example  of  hu- 
man inertia  that  men  should  have  continued 
until  now  to  endure  the  tyranny  and  extortion 
which  a  small  minority  are  able  to  inflict  by 
their  possession  of  the  land.  No  good  to  the 
community,  of  any  sort  or  kind,  results  from 
the  private  ownership  of  land.  If  men  were 
reasonable,  they  would  decree  that  it  should 
cease  to-morrow,  with  no  compensation  beyond 
a  moderate  life  income  to  the  present  holders. 
The  mere  abolition  of  rent  would  not  remove 
injustice,  since  it  would  confer  a  capricious  ad- 
vantage upon  the  occupiers  of  the  best  sites  and 
the  most  fertile  land.  It  is  necessary  that  there 
should  be  rent,  but  it  should  be  paid  to  the  State 
or  to  some  body  which  performs  public  serv- 
ices; or,  if  the  total  rental  were  more  than  is 
required  for  such  purposes,  it  might  be  paid 
into  a  common  fund  and  divided  equally  among 
the  population.  Such  a  method  would  be  just, 
and  would  not  only  help  to  relieve  poverty,  but 


PROPERTY  135 

would  prevent  wasteful  employment  of  land  and 
the  tyranny  of  local  magnates.  Much  that  ap- 
pears as  the  power  of  capital  is  really  the  power 
of  the  landowner — for  example,  the  power  of 
railway  companies  and  mine-owners.  The  evil 
and  injustice  of  the  present  system  are  glaring, 
but  men's  patience  of  preventable  evils  to  which 
they  are  accustomed  is  so  great  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  guess  when  they  will  put  an  end  to  this 
strange  absurdity. 

Inheritance,  which  is  the  source  of  the  greater 
part  of  the  unearned  income  in  the  world,  is  re- 
garded by  most  men  as  a  natural  right.  Some- 
times,  as  in  England,  the  right  is  inherent  in 
the  o^vner  of  property,  who  may  dispose  of  it  in 
any  way  that  seems  good  to  him.  Sometimes, 
as  in  France,  his  right  is  limited  by  the  right  of 
his  family  to  inherit  at  least  a  portion  of  what 
he  has  to  leave.  But  neither  the  right  to  dis- 
pose of  property  by  will  nor  the  right  of  chil- 
dren to  inherit  from  parents  has  any  basis  out- 
side the  instincts  of  possession  and  family 
pride. 

There  may  be  reasons  for  allowing  a  man 
whose  work  is  exceptionally  fruitful — for  in- 
stance, an  inventor — to  enjoy  a  larger  income 
than  is  enjoyed  by  the  average  citizen,  but  there 


136  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

can  be  no  good  reason  for  allowing  this  privi- 
lege to  descend  to  his  children  and  grandchil- 
dren and  so  on  for  ever.  The  effect  is  to  pro- 
duce an  idle  and  exceptionally  fortunate  class, 
who  are  influential  through  their  money,  and 
opposed  to  reform  for  fear  it  should  be  di- 
rected against  themselves.  Their  whole  habit 
of  thought  becomes  timid,  since  they  dread 
being  forced  to  acknowledge  that  their  position 
is  indefensible;  yet  snobbery  and  the  wish  to 
secure  their  favor  leads  almost  the  whole  middle 
class  to  ape  their  manners  and  adopt  their  opin- 
ions. In  this  way  they  become  a  poison  infect- 
ing the  outlook  of  almost  all  educated  people. 

It  is  sometimes  said  that  without  the  incen- 
tive of  inheritance  men  would  not  work  so  well. 
The  great  captains  of  industry,  we  are  assured, 
are  actuated  by  the  desire  to  found  a  family, 
and  would  not  devote  their  lives  to  unremitting 
toil  without  the  hope  of  gratifying  this  desire. 
I  do  not  believe  that  any  large  proportion  of 
really  useful  work  is  done  from  this  motive. 
Ordinary  work  is  done  for  the  sake  of  a  living, 
and  the  very  best  work  is  done  for  the  interest 
of  the  work  itself.  Even  the  captains  of  indus- 
try, who  are  thought  (perhaps  by  themselves  as 
well  as  by  others)  to  be  aiming  at  founding  a 


PROPERTY  137 

family,  are  probably  more  actuated  by  love  of 
power  and  by  the  adventurous  pleasure  of  great 
enterprises.  And  if  there  were  some  slight 
diminution  in  the  amount  of  work  done,  it 
would  be  well  worth  while  in  order  to  get  rid 
of  the  idle  rich,  with  the  oppression,  feeble- 
ness, and  corruption  which  they  inevitably  in- 
troduce. 

The  present  system  of  distribution  is  not 
based  upon  any  principle.  Starting  from  a  sys- 
tem imposed  by  conquest,  the  arrangements 
made  by  the  conquerors  for  their  own  benefit 
were  stereotyped  by  the  law,  and  have  never 
been  fundamentally  reconstructed.  On  what 
principles  ought  the  reconstruction  to  be 
based? 

Socialism,  which  is  the  most  widely  advo- 
cated scheme  of  reconstruction,  aims  chiefly  at 
justice:  the  present  inequalities  of  wealth  are 
unjust,  and  socialism  would  abolish  them.  It 
is  not  essential  to  socialism  that  all  men  should 
have  the  same  income,  but  it  is  essential  that 
inequalities  should  be  justified,  in  each  case,  by 
inequality  of  need  or  of  service  performed. 
There  can  be  no  disputing  that  the  present  sys- 
tem is  grossly  unjust,  and  that  almost  all  that 
is  unjust  in  it  is  harmful.     But  I  do  not  think 


138  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

justice  alone  is  a  sufficient  principle  upon  which 
to  base  an  economic  reconstruction.  Justice 
would  be  secured  if  all  were  equally  unhappy, 
as  well  as  if  all  were  equally  happy.     Justice, 

I  by  itself,  when  once  realized,  contains  no  source 
of  new  life.  The  old  type  of  Marxian  revolu- 
tionary socialist  never  dwelt,  in  imagination, 
upon  the  life  of  communities  after  the  establish- 
ment of  the  millennium.  He  imagined  that, 
like  the  Prince  and  Princess  in  a  fairy  story, 
they  would  live  happily  ever  after.  But  that 
is  not  a  condition  possible  to  human  nature. 
Desire,  activity,  purpose,  are  essential  to  a  tol- 
erable life,  and  a  millennium,  though  it  may  be 
a  joy  in  prospect,  would  be  intolerable  if  it  were 
actually  achieved. 

The  more  modern  socialists,  it  is  true,  have 
lost  most  of  the  religious  ferv^or  which  charac- 
terized the  pioneers,  and  view  socialism  as  a 
tendency  rather  than  a  definite  goal.    But  they 
still  retain  the  view  that  what  is  of  most  po- 
I  litical  importance  to  a  man  is  his  income,  and 
I  that  the  principal  aim  of  a  democratic  politician 
[  ought  to  be  to  increase  the  wages  of  labor.    I 
believe  this  involves  too  passive  a  conception 
of  what  constitutes  happiness.    It  is  true  that, 
in  the  industrial  world,  large  sections  of  the 


PROPERTY  139 

population  are  too  poor  to  have  any  possibility 
of  a  good  life ;  but  it  is  not  true  that  a  good  life 
will  come  of  itself  with  a  diminution  of  poverty. 
Very  few  of  the  well-to-do  classes  have  a  good 
life  at  present,  and  perhaps  socialism  would 
only  substitute  the  evils  which  now  afflict  the 
more  prosperous  in  place  of  the  evils  resulting 
from  destitution. 

In  the  existing  labor  movement,  although  it 
is  one  of  the  most  vital  sources  of  change,  there 
are  certain  tendencies  against  which  reformers 
ought  to  be  on  their  guard.  The  labor  move- 
ment is  in  essence  a  movement  in  favor  of  jus- 
tice, based  upon  the  belief  that  the  sacrifice  of 
the  many  to  the  few  is  not  necessary  now,  what- 
ever may  have  been  the  case  in  the  past.  When 
labor  was  less  productive  and  education  was  less 
widespread,  an  aristocratic  civilization  may 
have  been  the  only  one  possible:  it  may  have 
been  necessary  that  the  many  should  contribute 
to  the  life  of  the  few,  if  the  few  were  to  trans- 
mit and  increase  the  world's  possessions  in  art 
and  thought  and  civilized  existence.  But  this 
necessity  is  past  or  rapidly  passing,  and  there 
is  no  longer  any  valid  objection  to  the  claims  of 
justice.  The  labor  movement  is  morally  irre- 
sistible, and  is  not  now  seriously  opposed  ex- 


140  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

cept  by  prejudice  and  simple  self-assertion. 
All  living  thought  is  on  its  side ;  what  is  against 
it  is  traditional  and  dead.  But  although  it  it- 
self is  living,  it  is  not  by  any  means  certain  that 
it  will  make  for  life. 

Labor  is  led  by  current  political  thought  in 
certain  directions  which  would  become  repres- 
sive and  dangerous  if  they  were  to  remain 
strong  after  labor  had  triumphed.  The  aspira- 
tions of  the  labor  movement  are,  on  the  whole, 
opposed  by  the  great  majority  of  the  educated 
classes,  who  feel  a  menace,  not  only  or  chiefly 
to  their  personal  comfort,  but  to  the  civilized 
life  in  which  they  have  their  part,  which  they 
profoundly  believe  to  be  important  to  the  world. 
Owing  to  the  opposition  of  the  educated  classes, 
labor,  when  it  is  revolutionary  and  vigorous, 
tends  to  despise  all  that  the  educated  classes 
represent.  When  it  is  more  respectful,  as  its 
leaders  tend  to  be  in  England,  the  subtle  and 
almost  unconscious  influence  of  educated  men 
is  apt  to  sap  revolutionary  ardor,  producing 
doubt  and  uncertainty  instead  of  the  swift,  sim- 
ple assurance  by  which  victory  might  have  been 
won.  The  very  sympathy  which  the  best  men 
in  the  well-to-do  classes  extend  to  labor,  their 
very  readiness  to  admit  the  justice  of  its  claims, 


PKOPERTY  141 

may  have  the  effect  of  softening  the  opposition 
of  labor  leaders  to  the  status  quo,  and  of  open- 
ing their  minds  to  the  suggestion  that  no  funda- 
mental change  is  possible.  Since  these  influ- 
ences affect  leaders  much  more  than  the  rank 
and  file,  they  tend  to  produce  in  the  rank  and  file 
a  distrust  of  leaders,  and  a  desire  to  seek  out 
new  leaders  who  will  be  less  ready  to  concede 
the  claims  of  the  more  fortunate  classes.  The 
result  may  be  in  the  end  a  labor  movement  as 
hostile  to  the  life  of  the  mind  as  some  terrified 
property-owners  believe  it  to  be  at  present. 

The  claims  of  justice,  narrowly  interpreted, 
may  reinforce  this  tendency.  It  may  be  thought 
unjust  that  some  men  should  have  larger  in- 
comes or  shorter  hours  of  work  than  other  men. 
But  efficiency  in  mental  work,  including  the 
work  of  education,  certainly  requires  more  com- 
fort and  longer  periods  of  rest  than  are  required 
for  efficiency  in  physical  work,  if  only  because 
mental  work  is  not  physiologically  wholesome. 
If  this  is  not  recognized,  the  life  of  the  mind 
may  suffer  through  short-sightedness  even 
more  than  through  deliberate  hostility. 

Education  suffers  at  present,  and  may  long 
continue  to  suffer,  through  the  desire  of  par- 
ents that  their  children  should  earn  money  as 


142  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

soon  as  possible.  Every  one  knows  that  the 
half-time  system,  for  example,  is  bad;  but  the 
power  of  organized  labor  keeps  it  in  existence. 
It  is  clear  that  the  cure  for  this  evil,  as  for 
those  that  are  concerned  with  the  population 
question,  is  to  relieve  parents  of  the  expense 
of  their  children's  education,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  take  away  their  right  to  appropriate 
their  children's  earnings. 

The  way  to  prevent  any  dangerous  opposition 
of  labor  to  the  life  of  the  mind  is  not  to  oppose 
the  labor  movement,  which  is  too  strong  to  be 
opposed  with  justice.  The  right  way  is,  to 
show  by  actual  practice  that  thought  is  useful 
to  labor,  that  without  thought  its  positive  aims 
cannot  be  achieved,  and  that  there  are  men  in 
the  world  of  thought  who  are  willing  to  devote 
their  energies  to  helping  labor  in  its  struggle. 
Such  men,  if  they  are  wise  and  sincere,  can  pre- 
vent labor  from  becoming  destructive  of  what 
is  living  in  the  intellectual  world. 

Another  danger  in  the  aims  of  organized  la- 
bor is  the  danger  of  conservatism  as  to  meth- 
ods of  production.  Improvements  of  machin- 
ery or  organization  bring  great  advantages  to 
employers,  but  involve  temporary  and  some- 
times permanent  loss  to  the  wage-earners.    For 


PROPERTY  143 

this  reason,  and  also  from  mere  instinctive  dis- 
like of  any  change  of  habits,  strong  labor  or- 
ganizations are  often  obstacles  to  technical 
progress.  The  ultimate  basis  of  all  social  prog- 
ress must  be  increased  technical  efficiency,  a 
greater  result  from  a  given  amount  of  labor. 
If  labor  were  to  offer  an  effective  opposition 
to  this  kind  of  progress,  it  would  in  the  long 
run  paralyze  all  other  progress.  The  way  to 
overcome  the  opposition  of  labor  is  not  by  hos- 
tility or  moral  homilies,  but  by  giving  to  labor 
the  direct  interest  in  economical  processes 
which  now  belongs  to  the  employers.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  the  unprogressive  part  of  a  move- 
ment which  is  essentially  progressive  is  to  be 
eliminated,  not  by  decrying  the  whole  movement 
but  by  giving  it  a  wider  sweep,  making  it  more 
progressive,  and  leading  it  to  demand  an  even 
greater  change  in  the  structure  of  society  than 
any  that  it  had  contemplated  in  its  inception. 
The  most  important  purpose  that  political  in- 
stitutions can  achieve  is  to  keep  alive  in  indi- 
viduals creativeness,  vigor,  vitality,  and  the  joy 
of  life.  These  things  existed,  for  example,  in 
Elizabethan  England  in  a  way  in  which  they 
do  not  exist  now.  They  stimulated  adventure, 
poetry,  music,  fine  architecture,  and  set  going 


144  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  whole  movement  out  of  which  England's 
greatness  has  sprung  in  every  direction  in  which 
England  has  been  great.  These  things  coex- 
isted with  injustice,  but  outweighed  it,  and  made 
a  national  life  more  admirable  than  any  that  is 
likely  to  exist  under  socialism. 

I      What  is  wanted  in  order  to  keep  men  full  of 

I  vitality  is  opportunity,  not  security.  Security 
is  merely  a  refuge  from  fear ;  opportunity  is  the 
source  of  hope.  The  chief  test  of  an  economic 
system  is  not  whether  it  makes  men  prosperous, 
or  whether  it  secures  distributive  justice 
(though  these  are  both  very  desirable),  but 
hvhether  it  leaves  men's  instinctive  growth  un- 

iimpeded.  To  achieve  this  purpose,  there  are 
tjj^o  main  conditions  which  it  should  fulfil:  it 
should  not  cramp  men's  private  affections,  and 
it  should  give  the  greatest  possible  outlet  to 

^  the  impulse  of  creation.  There  is  in  most  men, 
until  it  becomes  atrophied  by  disuse,  an  instinct 
of  constructiveness,  a  wish  to  make  something. 
The  men  who  achieve  most  are,  as  a  rule,  those 
in  whom  this  instinct  is  strongest:  such  men 
become  artists,  men  of  science,  statesmen,  em- 
pire-builders, or  captains  of  industry,  accord- 
ing to  the  accidents  of  temperament  and  oppor- 
tunity.    The    most    beneficent    and    the    most 


PROPERTY  ■  145 

harmful  careers  are  inspired  by  this  impulse. 
Without  it,  the  world  would  sink  to  the  level  of 
Tibet:  it  would  subsist,  as  it  is  always  prone 
to  do,  on  the  wisdom  of  its  ancestors,  and  each 
generation  would  sink  more  deeply  into  a  life- 
less traditionalism. 

But  it  is  not  only  the  remarkable  men  who 
have  the  instinct  of  constructiveness,  though  it 
is  they  who  have  it  most  strongly.  It  is  almost 
universal  in  boys,  and  in  men  it  usually  sur- 
vives in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  according  to 
the  greater  or  less  outlet  which  it  is  able  to 
find.  Work  inspired  by  this  instinct  is  satis- 
fying, even  when  it  is  irksome  and  difficult,  be- 
cause every  effort  is  as  natural  as  the  effort  of 
a  dog  pursuing  a  hare.  The  chief  defect  of 
the  present  capitalistic  system  is  that  work  done 
for  wages  very  seldom  affords  any  outlet  for 
the  creative  impulse.  The  man  who  works  for 
wages  has  no  choice  as  to  what  he  shall  make : 
the  whole  creativeness  of  the  processes  concen- 
trate in  the  employer  who  orders  the  work  to 
be  done.  For  this  reason  the  work  becomes  a 
merely  external  means  to  a  certain  result,  the 
earning  of  wages.  Employers  grow  indignant 
about  the  trade  union  rules  for  limitation  of 
output,  but  they  have  no  right  to  be  indignant, 


146  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

since  they  do  not  permit  the  men  whom  they 
employ  to  have  any  share  in  the  purpose  for 
which  the  work  is  undertaken.  And  so  the  proc- 
ess of  production,  which  should  form  one  in- 
stinctive cycle,  becomes  divided  into  separate 
purposes,  which  can  no  longer  provide  any  sat- 
isfaction of  instinct  for  those  who  do  the  work. 

This  result  is  due  to  our  industrial  system, 
but  it  would  not  be  avoided  by  socialism.  In 
a  socialist  community,  the  State  would  be  the 
employer,  and  the  individual  workman  would 
have  almost  as  little  control  over  his  work  as 
he  has  at  present.  Such  control  as  he  could 
exercise  would  be  indirect,  through  political 
channels,  and  would  be  too  slight  and  round- 
about to  afford  any  appreciable  satisfaction. 
It  is  to  be  feared  that  instead  of  an  increase  of 
self-direction,  there  would  only  be  an  increase 
of  mutual  interference. 

The  total  abolition  of  private  capitalistic  en- 
terprise, which  is  demanded  by  Marxian  social- 
ism, seems  scarcely  necessary.  Most  men  who 
construct  sweeping  systems  of  reform,  like  most 
of  those  who  defend  the  status  quo,  do  not  allow 
enough  for  the  importance  of  exceptions  and 
the  undesirability  of  rigid  system.  Provided 
the  sphere  of  capitalism  is  restricted,  and  a 


PROPERTY  147 

large  proportion  of  the  population  are  rescued 
from  its  dominion,  there  is  no  reason  to  wish 
it  wholly  abolished.  As  a  competitor  and  a 
rival,  it  might  serve  a  useful  purpose  in  pre- 
venting more  democratic  enterprises  from  sink- 
ing into  sloth  and  technical  conservatism.  But 
it  is  of  the  very  highest  importance  that  capital- 
ism should  become  the  exception  rather  than  the 
rule,  and  that  the  bulk  of  the  world's  industry 
should  be  conducted  on  a  more  democratic  sys- 
tem. 

Much  of  what  is  to  be  said  against  militarism 
in  the  State  is  also  to  be  said  against  capitalism 
in  the  economic  sphere.  Economic  organiza- 
tions, in  the  pursuit  of  efficiency,  grow  larger 
and  larger,  and  there  is  no  possibility  of  re- 
versing this  process.  The  causes  of  their 
growth  are  technical,  and  large  organizations 
must  be  accepted  as  an  essential  part  of  civ- 
ilized society.  But  there  is  no  reason  why  their 
government  should  be  centralized  and  monar- 
chical. The  present  economic  system,  by  rob- 
bing most  men  of  initiative,  is  one  of  the  causes 
of  the  universal  weariness  which  devitalizes 
urban  and  industrial  populations,  making  them 
perpetually  seek  excitement,  and  leading  them 
to  welcome  even  the  outbreak  of  war  as  a  relief 


148  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

from  the  dreary  monotony  of  their  daily  lives. 

If  the  vigor  of  the  nation  is  to  be  preserved, 
if  we  are  to  retain  any  capacity  for  new  ideas, 
if  we  are  not  to  sink  into  a  Chinese  condition  of 
stereotyped  immobility,  the  monarchical  organ- 
ization of  industry  must  be  swept  away.  All 
large  businesses  must  become  democratic  and 
federal  in  their  government.  The  whole  wage- 
earning  system  is  an  abomination,  not  only  be- 
cause of  the  social  injustice  which  it  causes  and 
perpetuates,  but  also  because  it  separates  the 
man  who  does  the  work  from  the  purpose  for 
which  the  work  is  done.  The  whole  of  the  con- 
trolling purpose  is  concentrated  in  the  capital- 
ist; the  purpose  of  the  wage-earner  is  not  the 
produce,  but  the  wages.  The  purpose  of  the 
capitalist  is  to  secure  the  maximum  of  work  for 
the  minimum  of  wages;  the  purpose  of  the 
wage-earner  is  to  secure  the  maximum  of  wages 
for  the  minimum  of  work.  A  system  involv- 
ing this  essential  conflict  of  interests  cannot  be 
expected  to  work  smoothly  or  successfully,  or 
to  produce  a  community  with  any  pride  in  ef- 
ficiency. 

Two  movements  exist,  one  already  well  ad- 
vanced, the  other  in  its  infancy,  which  seem 
capable,   between  them,   of   effecting  most   of 


PROPERTY  149 

what  is  needed.  The  two  movements  I  mean 
are  the  cooperative  movement  and  syndical- 
ism. The  cooperative  movement  is  capable  of 
replacing  the  wage  system  over  a  very  wide 
field,  but  it  is  not  easy  to  see  how  it  could  be 
applied  to  such  things  as  railways.  It  is  just 
in  these  cases  that  the  principles  of  syndicalism 
are  most  easily  applicable. 

If  organization  is  not  to  crush  individuality, 
membership  of  an  organization  ought  to  be  vol- 
untary, not  compulsory,  and  ought  always  to 
carry  with  it  a  voice  in  the  management.  This 
is  not  the  case  with  economic  organizations, 
which  give  no  opportunity  for  the  pride  and 
pleasure  that  men  find  in  an  activity  of  their 
own  choice,  provided  it  is  not  utterly  monot- 
onous. 

It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  much  of 
the  mechanical  work  which  is  necessary  in  in- 
dustry is  probably  not  capable  of  being  made 
interesting  in  itself.  But  it  will  seem  less 
tedious  than  it  does  at  present  if  those  who  do 
it  have  a  voice  in  the  management  of  their  in- 
dustry. And  men  who  desire  leisure  for  other 
occupations  might  be  given  the  opportunity  of 
doing  uninteresting  work  during  a  few  hours 
of  the  day  for  a  low  wage;  this  would  give  an 


150  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

opening  to  all  who  wished  for  some  activity  not 
immediately  profitable  to  themselves.  When 
everything  that  is  possible  has  been  done  to 
make  work  interesting,  the  residue  will  have  to 
be  made  endurable,  as  almost  all  work  is  at 
present,  by  the  inducement  of  rewards  outside 
the  hours  of  labor.  But  if  these  rewards  are 
to  be  satisfactory,  it  is  essential  that  the  unin- 
teresting work  should  not  necessarily  absorb  a 
man's  whole  energies,  and  that  opportunities 
should  exist  for  more  or  less  continuous  activi- 
ties during  the  remaining  hours.  Such  a  sys- 
tem might  be  an  immeasurable  boon  to  artists, 
men  of  letters,  and  others  who  produce  for  their 
owm  satisfaction  works  which  the  public  does 
not  value  soon  enough  to  secure  a  living  for 
the  producers ;  and  apart  from  such  rather  rare 
cases,  it  might  provide  an  opportunity  for 
young  men  and  women  with  intellectual  ambi- 
tions to  continue  their  education  after  they  have 
left  school,  or  to  prepare  themselves  for  careers 
which  require  an  exceptionally  long  training. 

The  evils  of  the  present  system  result  from 
the  separation  between  the  several  interests  of 
consumer,  producer,  and  capitalist.  No  one  of 
these  three  has  the  same  interests  as  the  com- 
munity or  as  either  of  the  other  two.     The  co- 


PKOPERTY  151 

operative  system  amalgamates  the  interests  of 
consumer  and  capitalist;  syndicalism  would 
amalgamate  the  interests  of  producer  and  cap- 
italist. Neither  amalgamates  all  three,  or 
makes  the  interests  of  those  who  direct  indus- 
try quite  identical  with  those  of  the  commun- 
ity. Neither,  therefore,  would  wholly  prevent 
industrial  strife,  or  obviate  the  need  of  the 
State  as  arbitrator.  But  either  would  be  bet- 
ter than  the  present  system,  and  probably  a 
mixture  of  both  would  cure  most  of  the  evils 
of  industrialism  as  it  exists  now.  It  is  surpris- 
ing that,  while  men  and  women  have  struggled 
to  achieve  political  democracy,  so  little  has  been 
done  to  introduce  democracy  in  industry.  I  be- 
lieve incalculable  benefits  might  result  from  in- 
dustrial democracy,  either  on  the  cooperative 
model  or  with  recognition  of  a  trade  or  indus- 
try as  a  unit  for  purposes  of  government,  with 
some  kind  of  Home  Rule  such  as  syndicalism 
aims  at  securing.  There  is  no  reason  why  all 
governmental  units  should  be  geographical: 
this  system  was  necessary  in  the  past  because 
of  the  slowness  of  means  of  communication,  but 
it  is  not  necessary  now.  By  some  such  system 
many  men  might  come  to  feel  again  a  pride  in 
their  work,  and  to  find  again  that  outlet  for  the 


152  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

creative  impulse  whicli  is  now  denied  to  all  but 
a  fortunate  few.  Such  a  system  requires  the 
abolition  of  the  land-owner  and  the  restriction 
of  the  capitalist,  but  does  not  entail  equality  of 
earnings.  And  unlike  socialism,  it  is  not  a 
static  or  final  system :  it  is  hardly  more  than  a 
framework  for  energy  and  initiative.  It  is  only 
by  some  such  method,  I  believe,  that  the  free 
growth  of  the  individual  can  be  reconciled  with 
the  huge  technical  organizations  which  have 
been  rendered  necessary  by  industrialism. 


EDUCATION 

NO  political  theory  is  adequate  unless  it  is 
applicable  to  children  as  well  as  to  men 
and  women.  Theorists  are  mostly  childless,  or, 
if  they  have  children,  they  are  carefully 
screened  from  the  disturbances  which  would  be 
caused  by  youthful  turmoil.  Some  of  them 
have  written  books  on  education,  but  without, 
as  a  rule,  having  any  actual  children  present  to 
their  minds  while  they  wrote.  Those  educa- 
tional theorists  who  have  had  a  knowledge  of 
children,  such  as  the  inventors  of  Kindergarten 
and  the  Montessori  system,^  have  not  always 
had  enough  realization  of  the  ultimate  goal  of 
education  to  be  able  to  deal  successfully  with 
advanced  instruction.  I  have  not  the  knowl- 
edge either  of  children  or  of  education  which 
would  enable  me  to  supply  whatever  defects 
there  may  be  in  the  writings  of  others.    But 

1  As    repfards    the    education    of    youn<T    rliildren,    Madame 
Monteauori'a  methods  seem  to  me  full  of  wisdom. 

153 


154  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

some  questions,  concerning  education  as  a  po- 
litical institution,  are  involved  in  any  hope  of 
social  reconstruction,  and  are  not  usually  con- 
sidered by  writers  on  educational  theory.  It 
is  these  questions  that  I  wish  to  discuss. 

The  power  of  education  in  forming  character 
and  opinion  is  very  great  and  very  generally 
recognized.  The  genuine  beliefs,  though  not 
usually  the  professed  precepts,  of  parents  and 
teachers  are  almost  unconsciously  acquired  by 
most  children;  and  even  if  they  depart  from 
these  beliefs  in  later  life,  something  of  them  re- 
mains deeply  implanted,  ready  to  emerge  in  a 
time  of  stress  or  crisis.  Education  is,  as  a  rule, 
the  strongest  force  on  the  side  of  what  exists 
and  against  fundamental  change :  threatened  in- 
stitutions, while  they  are  still  powerful,  pos- 
sess themselves  of  the  educational  machine,  and 
instil  a  respect  for  their  own  excellence  into 
the  malleable  minds  of  the  young.  Reformers 
retort  by  trying  to  oust  their  opponents  from 
their  position  of  vantage.  The  children  them- 
selves are  not  considered  by  either  party;  they 
are  merely  so  much  material,  to  be  recruited 
into  one  army  or  the  other.  If  the  children 
themselves  were  considered,  education  would 
not  aim  at  making  them  belong  to  this  party 


EDUCATION  155 

or  that,  but  at  enabling  them  to  choose  intelli- 
gently between  the  parties;  it  would  aim  at 
making  them  able  to  think,  not  at  making  them 
think  what  their  teachers  think.  Education  as 
a  political  weapon  could  not  exist  if  we  re- 
spected the  rights  of  children.  If  we  respected 
the  rights  of  children,  we  should  educate  them 
so  as  to  give  them  the  knowledge  and  the  men- 
tal habits  required  for  forming  independent 
opinions;  but  education  as  a  political  institu- 
tion endeavors  to  form  habits  and  to  circum- 
scribe knowledge  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  one 
set  of  opinions  inevitable. 

The  two  principles  of  justice  and  liberty, 
which  cover  a  very  great  deal  of  the  social  re- 
construction required,  are  not  by  themselves 
sufficient  where  education  is  concerned.  Jus- 
tice, in  the  literal  sense  of  equal  rights,  is  ob- 
viously not  wholly  possible  as  regards  children. 
And  as  for  liberty,  it  is,  to  begin  with,  essen- 
tially negative:  it  condemns  all  avoidable  in- 
terference with  freedom,  without  giving  a  posi- 
tive principle  of  construction.  But  education 
is  essentially  constructive,  and  requires  some 
positive  conception  of  what  constitutes  a  good 
life.  And  although  liberty  is  to  be  respected 
in  education  as  much  as  is  compatible  with  in- 


156  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

struotion,  and  although  a  very  great  deal  more 
liberty  than  is  customary  can  be  allowed  with- 
out loss  to  instruction,  yet  it  is  clear  that  some 
departure  from  complete  liberty  is  unavoid- 
able if  children  are  to  be  taught  anything,  ex- 
cept in  the  case  of  unusually  intelligent  chil- 
dren who  are  kept  isolated  from  more  normal 
companions.  This  is  one  reason  for  the  great 
responsibility  which  rests  upon  teachers:  the 
children  must,  necessarily,  be  more  or  less  at 
the  mercy  of  their  elders,  and  cannot  make 
themselves  the  guardians  of  their  own  interests. 
Authority  in  education  is  to  some  extent  un- 
avoidable, and  those  who  educate  have  to  find 
a  way  of  exercising  authority  in  accordance 
with  the  spirit  of  liberty. 

Where  authority  is  unavoidable,  what  is 
needed  is  reverence.  A  man  who  is  to  educate 
really  well,  and  is  to  make  the  young  grow  and 
develop  into  their  full  stature,  must  be  filled 
through  and  through  with  the  spirit  of  rever- 
ence. It  is  reverence  towards  others  that  is 
lacking  in  those  Avho  advocate  machine-made 
cast-iron  systems:  militarism,  capitalism,  Fa- 
bian scientific  organization,  and  all  the  other 
prisons  into  which  reformers  and  reactionaries 
try  to  force  the  human  spirit.    In  education, 


EDUCATION  157 

with  its  codes  of  rules  emanating  from  a  Gov- 
ernment office,  its  large  classes  and  fixed  cur- 
riculum and  overworked  teachers,  its  deter- 
mination to  produce  a  dead  level  of  glib  medi- 
ocrity, the  lack  of  reverence  for  the  child  is  all 
but  universal.  Reverence  requires  imagination 
and  vital  warmth;  it  requires  most  imagina- 
tion in  respect  of  those  who  have  least  actual 
achievement  or  power.  The  child  is  weak  and 
superficially  foolish,  the  teacher  is  strong,  and 
in  an  every-day  sense  wiser  than  the  child. 
The  teacher  without  reverence,  or  the  bureau- 
crat without  reverence,  easily  despises  the  child 
for  these  outward  inferiorities.  He  thinks  it 
is  bis  duty  to  ''mold"  the  child:  in  imagina- 
tion he  is  the  potter  with  the  clay.  And  so  he 
gives  to  the  child  some  unnatural  shape,  which 
hardens  with  age,  producing  strains  and  spir- 
itual dissatisfactions,  out  of  which  grow  cruelty 
and  envy,  and  the  belief  that  others  must  be 
compelled  to  undergo  the  same  distortions. 

Th©  man  who  has  reverence  will  not  think  it 
his  duty  to  "mold"  the  young.  He  feels  in 
all  that  lives,  but  especially  in  human  beings, 
and  most  of  all  in  children,  something  sacred, 
indefinable,  unlimited,  something  individual 
and  strangely  precious,  the  growing  principle 


158  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

of  life,  an  embodied  fragment  of  the  dumb  striv- 
ing of  the  world.  In  the  presence  of  a  child 
he  feels  an  unaccountable  humility — a  humil- 
ity not  easily  defensible  on  any  rational 
ground,  and  yet  somehow  nearer  to  wisdom  than 
the  easy  self-confidence  of  many  parents  and 
teachers.  The  outward  helplessness  of  the 
child  and  the  appeal  of  dependence  make  him 
conscious  of  the  responsibility  of  a  trust.  His 
imagination  shows  him  what  the  child  may  be- 
come, for  good  or  evil,  how  its  impulses  may 
be  developed  or  thwarted,  how  its  hopes  must 
be  dimmed  and  the  life  in  it  grow  less  living, 
how  its  trust  will  be  bruised  and  its  quick  de- 
sires replaced  by  brooding  will.  All  this  gives 
him  a  longing  to  help  the  child  in  its  own  bat- 
tle; he  would  equip  and  strengthen  it,  not  for 
some  outside  end  proposed  by  the  State  or  by 
any  other  impersonal  authority,  but  for  the 
ends  which  the  child's  own  spirit  is  obscurely 
seeking.  The  man  who  feels  this  can  wield  the 
authority  of  an  educator  without  infringing  the 
principle  of  liberty. 

It  is  not  in  a  spirit  of  reverence  that  educa- 
tion is  conducted  by  States  and  Churches  and 
the  great  institutions  that  are  subservient  to 
them.    What    is    considered    in    education    is 


EDUCATION  159 

hardly  ever  the  boy  or  girl,  the  young  man  or 
young  woman,  but  almost  always,  in  some  form, 
the  maintenance  of  the  existing  order.  When 
the  individual  is  considered,  it  is  almost  ex- 
clusively with  a  view  to  worldly  success — mak- 
ing money  or  achieving  a  good  position.  To  be 
ordinary,  and  to  acquire  the  art  of  getting  on, 
is  the  ideal  which  is  set  before  the  youthful 
mind,  except  by  a  few  rare  teachers  who  have 
enough  energy  of  belief  to  break  through  the 
system  within  which  they  are  expected  to  work. 
Almost  all  education  has  a  political  motive :  it 
aims  at  strengthening  some  group,  national  or 
religious  or  even  social,  in  the  competition  with 
other  groups.  It  is  this  motive,  in  the  main, 
which  determines  the  subjects  taught,  the 
knowledge  offered  and  the  knowledge  withheld, 
and  also  decides  what  mental  habits  the  pupils 
are  expected  to  acquire.  Hardly  anything  is 
done  to  foster  the  inward  growth  of  mind  and 
spirit;  in  fact,  those  who  have  had  most  educa- 
tion are  very  often  atrophied  in  their  mental 
and  spiritual  life,  devoid  of  impulse,  and  pos- 
sessing only  certain  mechanical  aptitudes  which 
take  the  place  of  living  thought. 

Some  of  the  things  which  education  achieves 
at  present  must  continue  to  be  adiieved  by  edu- 


160  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

cation  in  any  civilized  country.  All  children 
must  continue  to  be  taught  how  to  read  and 
write,  and  some  must  continue  to  acquire  the 
knowledge  needed  for  such  professions  as  medi- 
cine or  law  or  engineering.  The  higher  educa- 
tion required  for  the  sciences  and  the  arts  is 
necessary  for  those  to  whom  it  is  suited.  Ex- 
cept in  history  and  religion  and  kindred  mat- 
ters, the  actual  instruction  is  only  inadequate, 
not  positively  harmful.  The  instruction  might 
be  given  in  a  more  liberal  spirit,  with  more  at- 
tempt to  show  its  ultimate  uses  j  and  of  course 
much  of  it  is  traditional  and  dead.  But  in  the 
main  it  is  necessary,  and  would  have  to  form 
a  part  of  any  educational  system. 

It  is  in  history  and  religion  and  other  contro- 
versial subjects  that  the  actual  instruction  is 
positively  harmful.  These  subjects  touch  the 
interests  by  which  schools  are  maintained ;  and 
the  interests  maintain  the  schools  in  order  that 
certain  views  on  these  subjects  may  be  instilled. 
History,  in  every  country,  is  so  taught  as  to 
magnify  that  country :  children  learn  to  believe 
that  their  own  country  has  always  been  in  the 
right  and  almost  always  victorious,  that  it  has 
produced  almost  all  the  great  men,  and  that  it 
is  in  all  respects  superior  to  all  other  countries. 


EDUCATION  161 

Since  these  beliefs  are  flattering,  they  are  eas- 
ily absorbed,  and  hardly  ever  dislodged  from 
instinct  by  later  knowledge. 

To  take  a  simple  and  almost  trivial  example : 
the  facts  about  the  battle  of  Waterloo  are 
known  in  great  detail  and  with  minute  accu- 
racy; but  the  facts  as  taught  in  elementary 
schools  will  be  widely  different  in  England, 
France,  and  Germany.  The  ordinary  English 
boy  imagines  that  the  Prussians  played  hardly ' 
any  part;  the  ordinary  German  boy  imagines 
that  Wellington  was  practically  defeated  when 
the  day  was  retrieved  by  Bliicher's  gallantry. 
If  the  facts  were  taught  accurately  in  both 
countries,  national  pride  would  not  be  fostered 
to  the  same  extent,  neither  nation  would  feel 
so  certain  of  victory  in  the  event  of  war,  and  the 
willingness  to  fight  would  be  diminished.  It  is 
this  result  which  has  to  be  prevented.  Every 
State  wishes  to  promote  national  pride,  and  is 
conscious  that  this  cannot  be  done  by  unbiased 
history.  The  defenseless  children  are  taught 
by  distortions  and  suppressions  and  sugges- 
tions. The  false  ideas  as  to  the  history  of  the 
world  which  are  taught  in  the  various  countries 
are  of  a  kind  which  encourages  strife  and  serves 
to  keep  alive  a  bigoted  nationalism.     If  good 


162  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

relations  between  States  were  desired,  one  of 
the  first  steps  ought  to  be  to  submit  all  teaching 
of  history  to  an  international  commission,  which 
should  produce  neutral  textbooks  free  from  the 
patriotic  bias  which  is  now  demanded  every- 
where.^ 

Exactly  the  same  thing  applies  to  religion. 
Elementary  schools  are  practically  always  in 
the  hands  either  of  some  religious  body  or  of 
a  State  which  has  a  certain  attitude  towards  re- 
ligion. A  religious  body  exists  through  the 
fact  that  its  members  all  have  certain  definite 
beliefs  on  subjects  as  to  which  the  truth  is  not 
ascertainable.  Schools  conducted  by  religious 
bodies  have  to  prevent  the  young,  who  are  often 
inquiring    by    nature,    from    discovering    that 

1  The  TitACHiNQ  of  Patriotism.  His  Majesty's 
Approval. 
The  King  has  been  graciously  pleased  to  accept  a  copy  of  the 
little  book  containing  suggestions  to  local  education  authorities 
and  teachers  in  Wales  as  to  the  teaching  of  patriotism  which 
has  just  been  issued  by  the  Welsh  Department  of  the  Board 
of  Education  in  connection  with  the  observance  of  the  Na- 
tional Anniversary  of  St.  David's  Day.  His  Private  Secretary 
(Lord  Stamfordham) ,  in  writing  to  ]Mr.  Alfred  T.  Davies,  the 
Permanent  Secretary  of  the  Welsh  Department,  says  that  his 
Majesty  is  much  pleased  with  the  contents  of  the  book,  and 
trusts  that  the  principles  inculcated  in  it  will  bear  good  fruit 
in  the  lives  and  characters  of  the  coming  generation. — Morning 
Post,  January  29,  1916. 


EDUCATION  163 

these  definite  beliefs  are  opposed  by  others 
which  are  no  more  unreasonable,  and  that  many 
of  the  men  best  qualified  to  judge  think  that 
there  is  no  good  evidence  in  favor  of  any  defi.- 
nite  belief.  When  the  State  is  militantly  secu- 
lar, as  in  France,  State  schools  become  as  dog- 
matic as  those  that  are  in  the  hands  of  the 
Churches  (I  understand  that  the  word  ''God" 
must  not  be  mentioned  in  a  French  elementary 
school).  The  result  in  all  these  cases  is  the 
same :  free  inquiry  is  checked,  and  on  the  most 
important  matter  in  the  world  the  child  is  met 
with  dogma  or  with  stony  silence. 

It  is  not  only  in  elementary  education  that 
these  evils  exist.  In  more  advanced  education 
they  take  subtler  forms,  and  there  is  more  at- 
tempt to  conceal  them,  but  they  are  still  pres- 
ent. Eton  and  Oxford  set  a  certain  stamp 
upon  a  man's  mind,  just  as  a  Jesuit  College 
does.  It  can  hardly  be  said  that  Eton  and  Ox- 
ford have  a  conscious  purpose,  but  they  have  a 
purpose  which  is  none  the  less  strong  and  effec- 
tive for  not  being  formulated.  In  almost  all 
who  have  been  through  them  they  fjroduce  a 
worship  of  "good  form,"  which  is  as  destruc- 
tive to  life  and  thought  as  the  medieval 
Church.    ''Good    form"    is    quite    compatible 


164  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

with  a  superficial  open-mindedness,  a  readiness 
to  hear  all  sides,  and  a  certain  urbanity  towards 
opponents.  But  it  is  not  compatible  with  funda- 
mental open-mindedness,  or  with  any  inward 
readiness  to  give  weight  to  the  other  side.  Its 
essence  is  the  assumption  that  what  is  most  im- 
portant is  a  certain  kind  of  behavior,  a  behav- 
ior which  minimizes  friction  between  equals 
and  delicately  impresses  inferiors  with  a  con- 
viction of  their  own  crudity.  As  a  political 
weapon  for  preserving  the  privileges  of  the  rich 
in  a  snobbish  democracy  it  is  unsurpassable. 
As  a  means  of  producing  an  agreeable  social 
milieu  for  those  who  have  money  with  no  strong 
beliefs  or  unusual  desires  it  has  some  merit. 
In  every  other  respect  it  is  abominable. 

The  evils  of  *'good  form"  arise  from  two 
sources :  its  perfect  assurance  of  its  own  right- 
ness,  and  its  belief  that  correct  manners  are 
more  to  be  desired  than  intellect,  or  artistic 
creation,  or  vital  energy,  or  any  of  the  other 
sources  of  progress  in  the  world.  Perfect  as- 
surance, by  itself,  is  enough  to  destroy  all  men- 
tal progress  in  those  who  have  it.  And  when 
it  is  combined  with  contempt  for  the  angulari- 
ties and  awkwardnesses  that  are  almost  inva- 
riably associated  with  great  mental  power,  it 


EDUCATION  165 

becomes  a  source  of  destruction  to  all  who  come 
in  contact  with  it.  ''Good  form"  is  itself  dead 
and  incapable  of  growth ;  and  by  its  attitude  to 
those  who  are  without  it  it  spreads  its  own  death 
to  many  who  might  otherwise  have  life.  The 
harm  which  it  has  done  to  well-to-do  English- 
men, and  to  men  whose  abilities  have  led  the 
well-to-do  to  notice  them,  is  incalculable. 

The  prevention  of  free  inquiry  is  unavoid- 
able so  long  as  the  purpose  of  education  is  to 
produce  belief  rather  than  thought,  to  compel 
the  young  to  hold  positive  opinions  on  doubt- 
ful matters  rather  than  to  let  them  see  the 
doubtfulness  and  be  encouraged  to  indepen- 
dence of  mind.  Education  ought  to  foster  the 
wish  for  truth,  not  the  conviction  that  some 
particular  creed  is  the  truth.  But  it  is  creeds 
that  hold  men  together  in  fighting  organiza- 
tions :  Churches,  States,  political  parties.  It  is 
intensity  of  belief  in  a  creed  that  produces  ef- 
ficiency in  fighting:  victory  comes  to  those  who 
feel  the  strongest  certainty  about  matters  on 
which  doubt  is  the  only  rational  attitude.  To 
produce  this  intensity  of  belief  and  this  effi- 
ciency in  fighting,  the  child's  nature  is  warped, 
and  its  free  outlook  is  cramped,  by  cultivating 
inhibitions  as  a  check  to  the  growth  of  new 


166  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ideas.  In  those  whose  minds  are  not  very  ao 
tive  the  result  is  the  omnipotence  of  prejudice; 
while  the  few  whose  thought  cannot  be  wholly 
killed  become  cynical,  intellectually  hopeless, 
destructively  critical,  able  to  make  all  that  is 
living  seem  foolish,  unable  themselves  to  sup- 
ply the  creative  impulses  which  they  destroy  in 
others. 

The  success  in  fighting  which  is  achieved  by 
suppressing  freedom  of  thought  is  brief  and 
very  worthless.  In  the  long  run  mental  vigor 
is  as  essential  to  success  as  it  is  to  a  good  life. 
The  conception  of  education  as  a  form  of  drill, 
a  means  of  producing  unanimity  through  slav- 
ishness,  is  very  common,  and  is  defended  chiefly 
on  the  ground  that  it  leads  to  victory.  Those 
who  enjoy  parallels  from  ancient  history  will 
point  to  the  victory  of  Sparta  over  Athens  to 
enforce  their  moral.  But  it  is  Athens  that  has 
had  power  over  men's  thoughts  and  imagina- 
tions, not  Sparta:  any  one  of  us,  if  we  could 
be  born  again  into  some  past  epoch,  would 
rather  be  born  an  Athenian  than  a  Spartan. 
And  in  the  modem  world  so  much  intellect  is 
required  in  practical  affairs  that  even  the  ex- 
ternal victory  is  more  likely  to  be  won  by  in- 


EDUCATION  167 

telligence  than  by  docility.  Education  in  cre- 
dulity leads  by  quick  stages  to  mental  decay; 
it  is  only  by  keeping  alive  the  spirit  of  free  in- 
quiry that  the  indispensable  minimum  of  prog- 
ress can  be  achieved. 

Certain  mental  habits  are  commonly  instilled 
by  tliose  who  are  engaged  in  educating:  obedi- 
ence and  discipline,  ruthlessness  in  the  struggle 
for  worldly  success,  contempt  towards  oppos- 
ing groups,  and  an  unquestioning  credulity,  a 
passive  acceptance  of  the  teacher's  wisdom. 
All  these  habits  are  against  life.  Instead  of 
obedience  and  discipline,  we  ought  to  aim 
at  preserving  independence  and  impulse.  In- 
stead of  ruthlessness,  education  should  try  to 
develop  justice  in  thought.  Instead  of  con- 
tempt, it  ought  to  instil  reverence,  and  the  at- 
tempt at  understanding;  towards  tlie  opinions 
of  others  it  ought  to  produce,  not  necessarily 
acquiescence,  but  only  such  opposition  as  is 
combined  with  imaginative  apprehension  and 
a  clear  realization  of  the  grounds  for  opposi- 
tion. Instead  of  credulity,  the  object  should 
be  to  stimulate  constructive  doubt,  the  love  of 
mental  adventure,  the  sense  of  worlds  to  con- 
quer by  enterprise  and  boldness  in  thought. 


168  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Contentment  with  the  status  quo,  and  subor- 
dination of  the  individual  pupil  to  political 
aims,  owing  to  the  indifference  to  the  things 
of  the  mind,  are  the  immediate  causes  of  these 
evils;  but  beneath  these  causes  there  is  one 
more  fundamental,  the  fact  that  education  is 
treated  as  a  means  of  acquiring  power  over  tTie 
pupil,  not  as  a  means  of  nourishing  his  own 
growth.  It  is  in  this  that  lack  of  reverence 
shows  itself;  and  it  is  only  by  more  reverence 
that  a  fundamental  reform  can  be  effected. 

Obedience  and  discipline  are  supposed  to  be 
indispensable  if  order  is  to  be  kept  in  a  class, 
and  if  any  instruction  is  to  be  given.  To  some 
extent  this  is  true;  but  the  extent  is  much  less 
than  it  is  thought  to  be  by  those  who  regard 
obedience  and  discipline  as  in  themselves  desir- 
able. Obedience,  the  yielding  of  one's  will  to 
outside  direction,  is  the  counterpart  of  author- 
ity. Both  may  be  necessary  in  certain  cases. 
Refractory  children,  lunatics,  and  criminals 
may  require  authority,  and  may  need  to  be 
forced  to  obey.  But  in  so  far  as  this  is  neces- 
sary it  is  a  misfortune:  what  is  to  be  desired 
is  the  free  choice  of  ends  with  which  it  is  not 
necessary  to  interfere.  And  educational  re- 
formers have  shown  that  this  is  far  more  pos- 


EDUCATION  169 

sible  than  our  fathers  would  ever  have  be- 
lieved/ 

What  makes  obedience  seem  necessary  in 
schools  is  the  large  classes  and  overworked 
teachers  demanded  by  a  false  economy.  Those 
who  have  no  experience  of  teaching  are  inca- 
pable of  imagining  the  expense  of  spirit  en- 
tailed by  any  really  living  instruction.  They 
think  that  teachers  can  reasonably  be  expected 
to  work  as  many  hours  as  bank  clerks.  Intense 
fatigTie  and  irritable  nerves  are  the  result,  and 
an  absolute  necessity  of  performing  the  day's 
task  mechanically.  But  the  task  cannot  be  per- 
formed mechanically  except  by  exacting  obedi- 
ence. 

If  we  took  education  seriously,  and  thought 
it  as  important  to  keep  alive  the  minds  of  chil- 
dren as  to  secure  victory  in  war,  we  should 
conduct  education  quite  differently:  we  should 
make  sure  of  achieving  the  end,  even  if  the 
expense  were  a  hundredfold  greater  than  it  is. 
To  many  men  and  women  a  small  amount  of 
teaching  is  a  delight,  and  can  be  done  with  a 
fresh  zest  and  life  which  keeps  most  pupils  in- 

1  What  Madame  Montessori  has  achieved  in  the  way  of 
minimizing  obedience  and  discipline  with  advantage  to  educa- 
tion is  almost  miraculous. 


170  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

terested  without  any  need  of  discipline.  The 
few  who  do  not  become  interested  might  be 
separated  from  the  rest,  and  given  a  different 
kind  of  instruction.  A  teacher  ought  to  have 
only  as  much  teaching  as  can  be  done,  on  most 
days,  with  actual  pleasure  in  the  work,  and 
with  an  awareness  of  the  pupil's  mental  needs. 
The  result  would  be  a  relation  of  friendliness 
instead  of  hostility  between  teacher  and  pupil, 
a  realization  on  the  part  of  most  pupils  that 
education  serves  to  develop  their  own  lives  and 
is  not  merely  an  outside  imposition,  interfer- 
ing with  play  and  demanding  many  hours  of  sit- 
ting still.  All  that  is  necessary  to  this  end 
is  a  greater  expenditure  of  money,  to  secure 
teachers  with  more  leisure  and  with  a  natural 
love  of  teaching. 

Discipline,  as  it  exists  in  schools,  is  very 
largely  an  evil.  There  is  a  kind  of  discipline 
which  is  necessary  to  almost  all  achievement, 
and  which  perhaps  is  not  sufficiently  valued  by 
those  who  react  against  the  purely  external  dis- 
cipline of  traditional  methods.  The  desirable 
kind  of  discipline  is  the  kind  that  comes  from 
within,  which  consists  in  tlie  power  of  pursuing 
a  distant  object  steadily,  foregoing  and  suffer- 
ing many  things  on  the  way.    This  involves  the 


EDUCATION  171 

subordination  of  impulse  to  will,  the  power  of 
a  directing  action  by  large  creative  desires  even 
at  moments  when  they  are  not  vividly  alive. 
Without  this,  no  serious  ambition,  good  or  bad, 
can  be  realized,  no  consistent  purpose  can  domi- 
nate. This  kind  of  discipline  is  very  necessary, 
but  can  only  result  from  strong  desires  for 
ends  not  immediately  attainable,  and  can  only 
be  produced  by  education  if  education  fosters 
such  desires,  which  it  seldom  does  at  present. 
Such  discipline  springs  from  one's  own  will, 
not  from  outside  authority.  It  is  not  this  kind 
which  is  sought  in  most  schools,  and  it  is  not 
this  kind  which  seems  to  me  an  evil. 

Although  elementary  education  encourages 
the  undesirable  discipline  that  consists  in  pas- 
sive obedience,  and  although  hardly  any  exist- 
ing education  encourages  the  moral  discipline 
of  consistent  self-direction,  there  is  a  certain 
kind  of  purely  mental  discipline  which  is  pro- 
duced by  the  traditional  higher  education.  The 
kind  I  mean  is  that  which  enables  a  man  to  con- 
centrate his  thoughts  at  will  upon  any  matter 
that  he  has  occasion  to  consider,  regardless  of 
preoccupations  or  boredom  or  intellectual  dif- 
ficulty. This  quality,  though  it  has  no  impor- 
tant intrinsic  excellence,  greatly  enhances  the 


172  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

eflBciency  of  the  mind  as  an  instrument.  It  is 
this  that  enables  a  lawyer  to  master  the  scien- 
tific details  of  a  patent  case  which  he  forgets  as 
soon  as  judgment  has  been  given,  or  a  civil 
servant  to  deal  quickly  with  many  different  ad- 
ministrative questions  in  succession.  It  is  this 
that  enables  men  to  forget  private  cares  dur- 
ing business  hours.  In  a  complicated  world  it 
is  a  very  necessary  faculty  for  those  whose 
work  requires  mental  concentration. 

Success  in  producing  mental  discipline  is  the 
chief  merit  of  traditional  higher  education.  I 
doubt  whether  it  can  be  achieved  except  by  com- 
pelling or  persuading  active  attention  to  a  pre- 
scribed task.  It  is  for  this  reason  chiefly  that 
I  do  not  believe  methods  such  as  Madame  Mon- 
tessori's  applicable  when  the  age  of  childhood 
has  been  passed.  The  essence  of  her  method 
consists  in  giving  a  choice  of  occupations,  any 
one  of  which  is  interesting  to  most  children,  and 
all  of  which  are  instructive.  The  child's  at- 
tention is  wholly  spontaneous,  as  in  play ;  it  en- 
joys acquiring  knowledge  in  this  way,  and  does 
not  acquire  any  knowledge  which  it  does  not 
desire.  I  am  convinced  that  this  is  the  best 
method  of  education  with  young  children:  the 
actual  results  make  it  ahnost  impossible  to  think 


EDUCATION  173 

otherwise.  But  it  is  difficult  to  see  how  this 
method  can  lead  to  control  of  attention  by  the 
will.  Many  things  which  must  be  thought 
about  are  uninteresting,  and  even  those  that  are 
interesting  at  first  often  become  very  weari- 
some before  they  have  been  considered  as  long 
as  is  necessary.  The  power  of  giving  pro- 
longed  attention  is  very  important,  and  it  is 
hardly  to  be  widely  acquired  except  as  a  habit 
induced  originally  by  outside  pressure.  Some 
few  boys,  it  is  true,  have  sufficiently  strong  in- 
tellectual desires  to  be  willing  to  undergo  all 
that  is  necessary  by  their  own  initiative  and 
free  will ;  but  for  all  others  an  external  induce- 
ment is  required  in  order  to  make  them  learn 
any  subject  thoroughly.  There  is  among  edu- 
cational reformers  a  certain  fear  of  demanding 
great  efforts,  and  in  the  world  at  large  a  grow- 
iug  unwillingness  to  be  bored.  Both  these  tend- 
encies have  their  good  sides,  but  both  also  have 
their  dangers.  The  mental  discipline  which  is 
jeopardized  can  be  preserved  by  mere  advice 
without  external  compulsion  whenever  a  boy^s 
intellectual  interest  and  ambition  can  be  suffi- 
ciently stimulated.  A  good  teacher  ought  to 
bo  able  to  do  this  for  any  boy  who  is  capable 
of  much  mental  achievement;  and  for  many  of 


174  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  others  the  present  purely  bookish  education 
is  probably  not  the  best.  In  this  way,  so  long 
as  the  importance  of  mental  discipline  is  real- 
ized, it  can  probably  be  attained,  whenever  it 
is  attainable,  by  appealing  to  the  pupil's  con- 
sciousness of  his  own  needs.  So  long  as  teach- 
ers are  not  expected  to  succeed  by  this  method, 
it  is  easy  for  them  to  slip  into  a  slothful  dull- 
ness, and  blame  their  pupils  when  the  fault  is 
really  their  o^vn. 

Ruthlessness  in  the  economic  struggle  will 
almost  unavoidably  be  taught  in  schools  so  long 
as  the  economic  structure  of  society  remains 
unchanged.  This  must  be  particularly  the  case 
in  middle-class  schools,  which  depend  for  their 
numbers  upon  the  good  opinion  of  parents,  and 
secure  the  good  opinion  of  parents  by  adver- 
tising the  successes  of  pupils.  This  is  one  of 
many  ways  in  which  the  competitive  organiza- 
tion of  the  State  is  harmful.  Spontaneous  and 
disinterested  desire  for  knowledge  is  not  at  all 
uncommon  in  the  young,  and  might  be  easily 
aroused  in  many  in  whom  it  remains  latent. 
But  it  is  remorselessly  checked  by  teachers  who 
think  only  of  examinations,  diplomas,  and  de- 
grees. For  the  abler  boys  there  is  no  time  for 
thought,  no  time  for  the  indulgence  of  intellec- 


EDUCATION  175 

tual  taste,  from  the  moment  of  first  going  to 
school  until  the  moment  of  leaving  the  univer- 
sity. From  first  to  last  there  is  nothing  but 
one  long  drudgery  of  examination  tips  and  text- 
book facts.  The  most  intelligent,  at  the  end, 
are  disgusted  with  learning,  longing  only  to  for- 
get it  and  to  escape  into  a  life  of  action.  Yet 
there,  as  before,  the  economic  machine  holds 
them  prisoners,  and  all  their  spontaneous  de- 
sires are  bruised  and  thwarted. 

The  examination  system,  and  the  fact  that 
instruction  is  treated  mainly  as  training  for  a 
livelihood,  leads  the  young  to  regard  knowledge, 
from  a  purely  utilitarian  point  of  view,  as  the 
j*oad  to  money,  not  as  the  gateway  to  wisdom. 
This  would  not  matter  so  much  if  it  affected 
only  those  who  have  no  genuine  intellectual 
interests.  But  unfortunately  it  affects  most 
those  whose  intellectual  interests  are  strongest, 
since  it  is  upon  them  that  the  pressure  of  ex- 
aminations falls  with  most  severity.  To  them 
most,  but  to  all  in  some  degree,  education  ap- 
pears as  a  means  of  acquiring  superiority  over 
others ;  it  is  infected  through  and  through  with 
ruthlessness  and  glorification  of  social  inequal- 
ity. Any  free,  disinterested  consideration 
shows  that,  whatever  inequalities  might  remain 


176  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

in  a  Utopia,  the  actual  inequalities  are  almost 
all  contrary  to  justice.  But  our  educational 
system  tends  to  conceal  this  from  all  except  the 
failures,  since  those  who  succeed  are  on  the  way 
to  profit  by  the  inequalities,  with  every  encour- 
agement from  the  men  who  have  directed  their 
education. 

Passive  acceptance  of  the  teacher's  wisdom 
is  easy  to  most  boys  and  girls.  It  involves  no 
effort  of  independent  thought,  and  seems  ra- 
tional because  the  teacher  knows  more  than  his 
pupils ;  it  is  moreover  the  way  to  win  the  favor 
of  the  teacher  unless  he  is  a  very  exceptional 
man.  Yet  the  habit  of  passive  acceptance  is  a 
disastrous  one  in  later  life.  It  causes  men  to 
seek  a  leader,  and  to  accept  as  a  loader  who- 
ever is  established  in  that  position.  It  makes 
the  power  of  Churches,  Governments,  party 
caucuses,  and  all  the  other  organizations  by 
which  plain  men  are  misled  into  supporting  old 
systems  which  are  harmful  to  the  nation  and  to 
themselves.  It  is  possible  that  there  would  not 
be  much  independence  of  thought  even  if  educa- 
tion did  everything  to  promote  it;  but  there 
would  certainly  be  more  than  there  is  at  pres- 
ent. If  the  object  were  to  make  pupils  think, 
rather  than  to  make  them  accept  certain  con- 


EDUCATION  177 

elusions,  education  would  be  conducted  quite 
differently:  there  would  be  less  rapidity  of  in- 
struction and  more  discussion,  more  occasions 
when  pupils  were  encouraged  to  express  them- 
selves, more  attempt  to  make  education  con- 
cern itself  with  matters  in  which  the  pupils  felt 
some  interest. 

Above  all,  there  would  be  an  endeavor  to 
rouse  and  stimulate  the  love  of  mental  adven- 
ture. The  world  in  which  we  live  is  various 
and  astonishing:  some  of  the  things  that  seem 
plainest  grow  more  and  more  difficult  the  more 
they  are  considered;  other  things,  which  might 
have  been  thought  quite  impossible  to  discover, 
have  nevertheless  been  laid  bare  by  genius  and 
industry.  The  powers  of  thought,  the  vast 
regions  which  it  can  master,  the  much  more  vast 
regions  wliicli  it  can  only  dimly  suggest  to  im- 
agination, give  to  those  whose  minds  have 
traveled  beyond  the  daily  round  an  amazing 
richness  of  material,  an  escape  from  the  triv- 
iality and  wearisomeness  of  familiar  routine, 
by  which  the  whole  of  life  is  filled  with  interest, 
and  the  prison  walls  of  the  commonplace  are 
broken  down.  The  same  love  of  adventure 
which  takes  men  to  the  South  Pole,  the  same 
passion  for  a  conclusive  trial  of  strength  which 


178  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

leads  some  men  to  welcome  war,  can  find  in 
creative  thought  an  outlet  which  is  neither 
wasteful  nor  cruel,  but  increases  the  dignity  of 
man  by  incarnating  in  life  some  of  that  shining 
splendor  which  the  human  spirit  is  bringing 
down  out  of  the  unknown.  To  give  this  joy,  in 
a  greater  or  less  measure,  to  all  who  are  capable 
of  it,  is  the  supreme  end  for  which  the  education 
of  the  mind  is  to  be  valued. 

It  will  be  said  that  the  joy  of  mental  adven- 
^  ture  must  be  rare,  that  there  are  few  who  can 
appreciate  it,  and  that  ordinary  education  can 
take  no  account  of  so  aristocratic  a  good.  I  do 
not  believe  this.  The  joy  of  mental  adventure 
is  far  commoner  in  the  young  than  in  grown 
men  and  women.  Among  children  it  is  very 
common,  and  grows  naturally  out  of  the  period 
of  make-believe  and  fancy.  It  is  rare  in  later 
life  because  everything  is  done  to  kill  it  during 
education.  Men  fear  thought  as  they  fear  noth- 
ing else  on  earth — more  than  ruin,  more  even 
than  death.  Thought  is  subversive  and  revolu- 
tionary, destructive  and  terrible;  thought  is 
merciless  to  privilege,  established  institutions, 
and  comfortable  habits ;  thought  is  anarchic  and 
lawless,  indifferent  to  authority,  careless  of  the 
well-tried  wisdom  of  the  ages.     Thought  looks 


EDUCATION  179 

into  the  pit  of  hell  and  is  not  afraid.  It  sees 
man,  a  feeble  speck,  surrounded  by  unfathom- 
able depths  of  silence;  yet  it  bears  itself 
proudly,  as  unmoved  as  if  it  were  lord  of  the 
universe.  Thought  is  great  and  swift  and  free, 
the  light  of  the  world,  and  the  chief  glory  of 
man. 

But  if  thought  is  to  become  the  possession  of 
many,  not  the  privilege  of  the  few,  we  must 
have  done  with  fear.  It  is  fear  that  holds  men 
back — fear  lest  their  cherished  beliefs  should 
prove  delusions,  fear  lest  the  institutions  by 
which  they  live  should  prove  harmful,  fear  lest 
they  themselves  should  prove  less  worthy  of 
respect  than  they  have  supposed  themselves 
to  be.  ''Should  the  working  man  think  freely 
about  property?  Then  what  will  become  of  us, 
the  rich  ?  Should  young  men  and  young  women 
think  freely  about  sex  ?  Then  what  will  become 
of  morality?  Should  soldiers  think  freely 
about  war?  Then  what  will  become  of  mili- 
tary discipline?  Away  with  thought!  Back 
into  the  shades  of  prejudice,  lest  property, 
morals,  and  war  should  be  endangered !  Better 
men  should  be  stupid,  slothful,  and  oppressive 
than  that  their  thoughts  should  be  free.  For 
if  their  thoughts  were  free  they  might  not  think 


180  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

as  we  do.  And  at  all  costs  this  disaster  must 
be  averted."  So  the  opponents  of  thought 
argue  in  the  unconscious  depths  of  their  souls. 
And  so  they  act  in  their  churches,  their  schools, 
and  their  universities. 

No  institution  inspired  by  fear  can  further 
life.  Hope,  not  fear,  is  the  creative  principle 
in  human  affairs.  All  that  has  made  man  great 
has  sprung  from  the  attempt  to  secure  what  is 
good,  not  from  the  struggle  to  avert  what  was 
thought  evil.  It  is  because  modern  education 
is  so  seldom  inspired  by  a  great  hope  that  it  so 
seldom  achieves  a  gTeat  result.  The  wish  to 
preserve  the  past  rather  than  the  hope  of  cre- 
ating the  future  dominates  the  minds  of  those 
who  control  the  teaching  of  the  young.  Educa- 
tion should  not  aim  at  a  passive  awareness  of 
dead  facts,  but  at  an  activity  directed  towards 
the  world  that  our  efforts  are  to  create.  It 
should  be  inspired,  not  by  a  regretful  hankering 
after  the  extinct  beauties  of  Greece  and  the 
Renaissance,  but  by  a  shining  vision  of  the  so- 
ciety that  is  to  be,  of  the  triumphs  that  thought 
will  achieve  in  the  time  to  come,  and  of  the  ever- 
widening  horizon  of  man's  survey  over  the  uni- 
verse.    Those  who  are  taught  in  this  spirit  will 


EDUCATION  181 

be  filled  with  life  and  hope  and  joy,  able  to  bear 
their  part  in  bringing  to  mankind  a  future  less 
somber  than  the  past,  with  faith  in  the  glory 
that  human  effort  can  create. 


VI 


IVIARRIAGE    AND    THE    POPULATION 

QUESTION 

THE  influence  of  the  Christian  religion  on 
daily  life  has  decayed  very  rapidly 
throughout  Europe  during  the  last  hundred 
years.  Not  only  has  the  proportion  of  nominal 
believers  declined,  but  even  among  those  who 
believe  the  intensity  and  dogmatism  of  belief  is 
enormously  diminished.  But  there  is  one  social 
institution  which  is  still  profoundly  affected  by 
the  Christian  tradition — I  mean  the  institution 
of  marriage.  The  law  and  public  opinion  as  re- 
gards marriage  are  dominated  even  now  to  a 
very  great  extent  by  the  teachings  of  the 
Church,  which  continue  to  influence  in  this  way 
the  lives  of  men,  women,  and  children  in  their 
most  intimate  concerns. 

It  is  marriage  as  a  political  institution  that  I 
wish  to  consider,  not  marriage  as  a  matter  for 
the  private  morality  of  each  individual.  Mar- 
riage is  regulated  by  law,  and  is  regarded  as  a 

182 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     183 

matter  in  which  the  community  has  a  right  to 
interfere.  It  is  only  the  action  of  the  com- 
munity in  regard  to  marriage  that  I  am  con- 
cerned to  discuss:  whether  the  present  action 
furthers  the  life  of  the  community,  and  if  not, 
in  what  ways  it  ought  to  be  changed. 

There  are  two  questions  to  be  asked  in  regard 
to  any  marriage  system :  first,  how  it  affects  the 
development  and  character  of  the  men  and 
women  concerned ;  secondly,  what  is  its  influence 
on  the  propagation  and  education  of  children. 
These  two  questions  are  entirely  distinct,  and  a 
system  may  well  be  desirable  from  one  of  these 
two  points  of  view  when  it  is  very  undesirable 
from  the  other.  I  propose  first  to  describe  the 
present  English  law  and  public  opinion  and 
practice  in  regard  to  the  relations  of  the 
sexes,  then  to  consider  their  effects  as  re- 
gards children,  and  finally  to  consider  how 
these  effects,  which  are  bad,  could  be  obviated 
by  a  system  which  would  also  have  a  better  in- 
fluence on  the  character  and  development  of 
men  and  women. 

The  law  in  England  is  based  upon  the  ex- 
pectation that  the  great  majority  of  marriages 
will  be  lifelong.  A  marriage  can  only  be  dis- 
solved if  either  the  wife  or  the  husband,  but  not 


184  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

both,  can  be  proved  to  have  committed  adultery. 
In  case  the  husband  is  the  ''guilty  party,"  he 
must  also  be  guilty  of  cruelty  or  desertion. 
Even  when  these  conditions  are  fulfilled,  in 
practice  only  the  well-to-do  can  be  divorced,  be- 
cause the  expense  is  very  great.^  A  marriage 
cannot  be  dissolved  for  insanity  or  crime,  or  for 
cruelty,  however  abominable,  or  for  desertion, 
or  for  adultery  by  both  parties ;  and  it  cannot 
be  dissolved  for  any  cause  whatever  if  both  hus- 
band and  wife  have  agreed  that  they  wish  it  dis- 
solved. In  all  these  cases  the  law  regards  the 
man  and  woman  as  bound  together  for  life.  A 
special  official,  the  King's  Proctor,  is  employed 
to  prevent  divorce  when  there  is  collusion  and 
when  both  parties  have  committed  adultery.^ 

1  There  was  a  provision  for  suits  in  forma  pauperis,  but  for 
various  reasons  this  provision  was  nearly  useless;  a  new  and 
Bomewhat  better  provision  has  recently  been  made,  but  is  still 
very  far  from  satisfactory. 

2  The  following  letter  {Neic  Statesman,  December  4,  1915) 
illustrates  the  nature  of  his  activities: — 

DiVOBCE  AND    Wab. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  "New  Statesman." 
Sib, — The  following  episodes  may  be  of  interest  to  your 
readers.  Under  the  new  facilities  for  divorce  offered  to  the 
London  poor,  a  poor  woman  recently  obtained  a  decree  nisi  for 
divorce  against  her  husband,  who  had  often  covered  her  body 
with  bruises,  infected  her  with  a  dangerous  disease,  and  com- 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     185 

This  interesting  system  embodies  the  opinions 
held  by  the  Church  of  England  some  fifty  years 
ago,  and  by  most  Nonconformists  then  and 
now.  It  rests  npon  the  assumption  that  adult- 
ery is  sin,  and  that  when  this  sin  has  been  com- 
mitted by  one  party  to  the  marriage,  the  other 
is  entitled  to  revenge  if  he  is  rich.  But  when 
both  have  committed  the  same  sin,  or  when  the 
one  who  has  not  committed  it  feels  no  righteous 
anger,  the  right  to  revenge  does  not  exist.  As 
soon  as  this  point  of  view  is  understood,  the 
law,  which  at  first  seems  somewhat  strange, 
is  seen  to  be  perfectly  consistent.  It  rests, 
broadly  speaking,  upon  four  propositions:  (1) 
that  sexual  intercourse  outside  marriage  is  sin; 
(2)  that  resentment  of  adultery  by  the  "inno- 

mitted  bigamy.  By  this  bigamous  marriage  the  husband  had 
ten  illegitimate  children.  In  order  to  prevent  this  decree  being 
made  absolute,  the  Treasury  spent  at  least  £200  of  the  taxes 
in  briefing  a  leading  counsel  and  an  eminent  junior  counsel 
and  in  bringing  about  ten  witnesses  from  a  city  a  hundred 
miles  away  to  prove  that  this  woman  had  committed  casual 
acts  of  adultery  in  1895  and  1898.  The  net  result  is  that  this 
woman  will  probably  be  forced  by  destitution  into  further 
adultery,  and  that  the  husband  will  be  able  to  treat  his  mistress 
exactly  as  he  treated  his  wife,  with  impunity,  so  far  as  dis- 
ease is  concerned.  In  nearly  every  other  civilized  country  the 
marriage  would  have  been  dissolved,  the  children  could  have 
been  legitimated  by  subsequent  marriage,  and  the  lawyers 
employed  by  the  Treasury  would  not  have  earned  the  large  fees 


186  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

cent"  party  is  a  righteous  horror  of  wrong-do- 
ing; (3)  that  his  resentment,  but  nothing  else, 
may  be  rightly  regarded  as  making  a  common 
life  impossible;  (4)  that  the  poor  have  no  right 
to  fine  feelings.  The  Church  of  England,  under 
the  influence  of  the  High  Church,  has  ceased  to 
believe  the  third  of  these  propositions,  but  it 
still  believes  the  first  and  second,  and  does  noth- 
ing actively  to  show  that  it  disbelieves  the 
fourth. 

The  penalty  for  infringing  the  marriage  law 
is  partly  financial,  but  depends  mainly  upon 

they  did  from  the  community  for  an  achievement  which  seems 
to  most  other  lawyers  thoroughly  anti-social  in  its  effects.  If 
any  lawyers  really  feel  that  society  is  benefited  by  this  sort  of 
litigation,  why  cannot  they  give  their  services  for  nothing, 
like  the  lawyers  who  assisted  the  wife?  If  we  are  to  practise 
economy  in  war-time,  why  cannot  the  King's  Proctor  be  satis- 
fied with  a  junior  counsel  only?  The  fact  remains  that  many 
persons  situated  like  the  husband  and  wife  in  question  prefer 
to  avoid  having  illegitimate  children,  and  the  birth-rate  ac- 
cordingly suffers. 

The  other  episode  is  this.  A  divorce  was  obtained  by  Mr. 
A.  against  Mrs.  A.  and  Mr.  B.  Mr.  B.  was  married  and  Mrs. 
B.,  on  hearing  of  the  divorce  proceedings,  obtained  a  decree 
nisi  against  Mr.  B.  Mr.  B.  is  at  any  moment  liable  to  be 
called  to  the  Front,  but  Mrs.  B.  has  for  some  months  declined 
to  make  the  decree  nisi  absolute,  and  this  prevents  him  marry- 
ing Mrs.  A.,  as  he  feels  in  honor  bound  to  do.  Yet  the  law 
allows  any  petitioner,  male  or  female,  to  obtain  a  decree  nisi 
and  to  refrain  from  making  it  absolute  for  motives  which 
are  probably  discreditable.     The  Divorce  Law  Commissioners 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     187 

public  opinion.  A  rather  small  section  of  the 
public  genuinely  believes  that  sexual  relations 
outside  marriage  are  wicked ;  those  who  believe 
this  are  naturally  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  con- 
duct of  friends  who  feel  otherwise,  and  are  able 
to  go  through  life  not  knowing  how  others  live 
or  what  others  think.  This  small  section  of 
the  public  regards  as  depraved  not  only  actions, 
but  opinions,  which  are  contrary  to  its  prin- 
ciples. It  is  able  to  control  the  professions  of 
politicians  through  its  influence  on  elections, 
and  the  votes  of  the  House  of  Lords  through  the 
presence  of  the  Bishops.  By  these  means  it 
governs  legislation,  and  makes  any  change  in 
the  marriage  law  almost  impossible.  It  is  able, 
also,  to  secure  in  most  cases  that  a  man  who 
openly  infringes  the  marriage  law  shall  be  dis- 

strongly  condemned  this  state  of  things,  and  the  hardship  in 
question  is  immensely  aggravated  in  war-time,  just  as  the  war 
has  given  rise  to  many  cases  of  bigamy  owing  to  the  chivalrous 
desire  of  our  soldiers  to  obtain  for  the  de  facto  wife  and  family 
the  separation  allowance  of  the  State.  The  legal  wife  is  often 
united  by  similar  ties  to  anotlier  man.  I  commend  these  facts 
to  consideration  in  your  columns,  having  regard  to  your  fre- 
quent complaints  of  a  falling  birth-rate.  The  iniquity  of  our 
marriage  laws  is  an  important  contributory  cause  to  the  fall 
in  question. 

Yours,  etc., 

E.  S.  P.  Haynks. 
November  2dth. 


188  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

missed  from  his  employment  or  ruined  by  the 
defection  of  his  customers  or  clients.  A  doctor 
or  lawj^er,  or  a  tradesman  in  a  country  town, 
cannot  make  a  living,  nor  can  a  politician  be  in 
Parliament,  if  he  is  publicly  known  to  be  "im- 
moral." Whatever  a  man's  own  conduct  may 
be,  he  is  not  likely  to  defend  publicly  those  who 
have  been  branded,  lest  some  of  the  odium 
should  fall  on  him.  Yet  so  long  as  a  man  has 
not  been  branded,  few  men  will  object  to  him, 
whatever  they  may  know  privately  of  his  be- 
havior in  these  respects. 

Owing  to  the  nature  of  the  penalty,  it  falls 
very  unequally  upon  different  professions.  An 
actor  or  journalist  usually  escapes  all  punish- 
ment. An  urban  workingman  can  almost  al- 
ways do  as  he  likes.  A  man  of  private  means, 
unless  he  wishes  to  take  part  in  public  life,  need 
not  suffer  at  all  if  he  has  chosen  his  friends 
suitably.  Women,  who  formerly  suffered  more 
than  men,  now  suffer  less,  since  there  are  large 
-sircles  in  which  no  social  penalty  is  inflicted,  and 
a  very  rapidly  increasing  number  of  women  who 
do  not  believe  the  conventional  code.  But  for 
the  majority  of  men  outside  the  working  classes 
the  penalty  is  still  sufficiently  severe  to  be  pro- 
hibitive. 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     189 

The  result  of  this  state  of  things  is  a  wide- 
spread but  very  flimsy  hj^ocrisy,  which  allows 
many  infractions  of  the  code,  and  forbids  only 
those  which  must  become  public.  A  man  may 
not  live  openly  with  a  woman  who  is  not  his 
wife,  an  unmarried  woman  may  not  have  a 
child,  and  neither  man  nor  woman  may  get  into 
the  divorce  court.  Subject  to  these  restric- 
tions, there  is  in  practice  very  great  freedom. 
It  is  this  practical  freedom  which  makes  the 
state  of  the  law  seem  tolerable  to  those  who 
do  not  accept  the  principles  upon  which  it  is 
based.  What  has  to  be  sacrificed  to  propitiate 
the  holders  of  strict  views  is  not  pleasure,  but 
only  children  and  a  common  life  and  truth  and 
honesty.  It  cannot  be  supposed  that  this  is 
the  result  desired  by  those  who  maintain  the 
code,  but  equally  it  cannot  be  denied  that  this 
is  the  result  which  they  do  in  fact  achieve.  Ex- 
tra-matrimonial relations  which  do  not  lead  to 
children  and  are  accompanied  by  a  certain 
amount  of  deceit  remain  unpunished,  but  severe 
penalties  fall  on  those  which  are  honest  or  lead 
to  children. 

Within  marriage,  the  expense  of  children 
leads  to  continually  greater  limitation  of  fami- 
lies.    The  limitation  is  greatest  among  those 


190  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

who  have  most  sense  of  parental  responsibility 
and  most  wish  to  educate  their  children  well, 
since  it  is  to  them  that  the  expense  of  children 
is  most  severe.  But  although  the  economic 
motive  for  limiting  families  has  hitherto  prob- 
ably been  the  strongest,  it  is  being  continually 
reinforced  by  another.  Women  are  acquiring 
freedom — not  merely  outward  and  formal  free- 
dom, but  inward  freedom,  enabling  them  to 
think  and  feel  genuinely,  not  according  to  re- 
ceived maxims.  To  the  men  who  have  prated 
confidently  of  women's  natural  instincts,  the  re- 
sult would  be  surprising  if  they  were  aware  of 
it.  Very  large  numbers  of  women,  when  they 
are  sufiSciently  free  to  think  for  themselves,  do 
not  desire  to  have  children,  or  at  most  desire 
one  child  in  order  not  to  miss  the  experience 
which  a  child  brings.  There  are  women  who 
are  intelligent  and  active-minded  who  resent 
the  slavery  to  the  body  which  is  involved  in  hav- 
ing children.  There  are  ambitious  women,  who 
desire  a  career  which  leaves  no  time  for  chil- 
dren. There  are  women  who  love  pleasure  and 
gaiety,  and  women  who  love  the  admiration  of 
men;  such  women  will  at  least  postpone  child- 
bearing  until  their  youth  is  past.  All  these 
classes  of  women  are  rapidly  becoming  more 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     191 

numerous,  and  it  may  be  safely  assumed  that 
their  numbers  will  continue  to  increase  for 
many  years  to  come. 

It  is  too  soon  to  judge  with  any  confidence 
as  to  the  effects  of  women's  freedom  upon  pri- 
vate life  and  upon  the  life  of  the  nation.  But  I 
think  it  is  not  too  soon  to  see  that  it  will  be 
profoundly  different  from  the  effect  expected 
by  the  pioneers  of  the  women's  movement. 
Men  have  invented,  and  women  in  the  past  have 
often  accepted,  a  theory  that  women  are  the 
guardians  of  the  race,  that  their  life  centers  in 
motherhood,  that  all  their  instincts  and  desires 
are  directed,  consciously  or  unconsciously,  to 
this  end.  Tolstoy's  Natacha  illustrates  this 
theory:  she  is  charming,  gay,  liable  to  passion, 
until  she  is  married ;  then  she  becomes  merely  a 
virtuous  mother,  without  any  mental  life.  This 
result  has  Tolstoy's  entire  approval.  It  must 
be  admitted  that  it  is  very  desirable  from  the 
point  of  view  of  the  nation,  whatever  we  may 
think  of  it  in  relation  to  private  life.  It  must 
also  be  admitted  that  it  is  probably  common 
among  women  who  are  physically  vigorous  and 
not  highly  civilized.  But  in  countries  like 
France  and  England  it  is  becoming  increasingly 
rare.     More  and  more  women  find  motherhood 


192  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

unsatisfying,  not  what  their  needs  demand. 
And  more  and  more  there  comes  to  be  a  conflict 
between  their  personal  development  and  the  fu- 
ture of  the  community.  It  is  difficult  to  know 
what  ought  to  be  done  to  mitigate  this  conflict, 
but  I  think  it  is  worth  while  to  see  what  are 
likely  to  be  its  effects  if  it  is  not  mitigated. 

Owing  to  the  combination  of  economic  pru- 
dence with  the  increasing  freedom  of  women, 
there  is  at  present  a  selective  birth-rate  of  a  very 
singular  kind.^  In  France  the  population  is  prac- 
tically stationary,  and  in  England  it  is  rapidly 
becoming  so ;  this  means  that  some  sections  are 
dwindling  while  others  are  increasing.  Unless 
some  change  occurs,  the  sections  that  are 
dwindling  will  practically  become  extinct,  and 
the  population  will  be  almost  wholly  replenished 
from  the   sections   that   are   now   increasing.^ 

1  Some  interesting  facts  were  given  by  Mr.  Sidney  Webb  in 
two  letters  to  The  Times,  October  11  and  16,  1906;  there  is  also 
a  Fabian  tract  on  the  subject:  "The  Decline  in  the  Birth- 
Rate,"  by  Sidney  Webb  (Xo.  131).  Some  further  information 
may  be  found  in  "The  Declining  Birth-Rate:  Its  National  and 
International  Significance,"  by  A.  Newsholme,  M.D.,  M.R.C.S. 
(Cassell,  1911). 

2  The  fall  in  the  death-rate,  and  especially  in  the  infant 
mortality,  which  has  occurred  concurrently  with  the  fall  in 
the  birth-rate,  has  hitherto  been  sufficiently  great  to  allow  the 
population  of  Great  Britain  to  go  on  increasing.     But  there 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     193 

The  sections  that  are  dwindling  include  the 
whole  middle-class  and  the  skilled  artisans. 
The  sections  that  are  increasing  are  the  very 
poor,  the  shiftless  and  drunken,  the  feeble- 
minded— feeble-minded  women,  especially,  are 
apt  to  be  very  prolific.  There  is  an  increase  in 
those  sections  of  the  population  which  still 
actively  believe  the  Catholic  religion,  such  as 
the  Irish  and  the  Bretons,  because  the  Catholic 
religion  forbids  limitation  of  families.  Within 
the  classes  that  are  dwindling,  it  is  the  best  ele- 
ments that  are  dwindling  most  rapidly.  Wouk- 
ing-class  boys  of  exceptional  ability  rise,  by 
means  of  scholarships,  into  the  professional 
class;  they  naturally  desire  to  marry  into  the 
class  to  which  they  belong  by  education,  not  into 
the  class  from  which  they  spring;  but  as  they 
have  no  money  beyond  what  they  earn,  they  can- 
not marry  young,  or  afford  a  large  family.  The 
result  is  that  in  each  generation  the  best  ele- 
ments are  extracted  from  the  working  classes 
and  artificially  sterilized,  at  least  in  comparison 
with  those  who  are  loft.  In  the  professional 
classes  the  young  women  who  have  initiative^ 

are  obvious  limits  to  tlic  fall  of  the  doath-rate,  whereas  the 
birth-rate  mif;ht  easify  fall  to  a  point  which  would  maJce  an 
actual  diminution  of  numbers  unavoidable. 


194  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

energy,  or  intelligence  are  as  a  rule  not  in- 
clined to  marry  young,  or  to  have  more  than  one 
or  two  children  when  they  do  marry.  Marriage 
has  been  in  the  past  the  only  obvious  means  of 
livelihood  for  women;  pressure  from  parents 
and  fear  of  becoming  an  old  maid  combined  to 
force  many  women  to  marry  in  spite  of  a  com- 
plete absence  of  inclination  for  the  duties  of  a 
wife.  But  now  a  young  woman  of  ordinary  in- 
telligence can  easily  earn  her  own  living,  and 
can  acquire  freedom  and  experience  without  the 
permanent  ties  of  a  husband  and  a  family  of 
children.  The  result  is  that  if  she  marries  she 
marries  late. 

For  these  reasons,  if  an  average  sample  of 
children  were  taken  out  of  the  population  of 
England,  and  their  parents  were  examined,  it 
would  be  found  that  prudence,  energy,  intellect, 
and  enlightenment  were  less  common  among 
the  parents  than  in  the  population  in  general; 
while  shiftlessness,  feeble-mindedness,  stupid- 
ity, and  superstition  were  more  common  than 
in  the  population  in  general.  It  would  be  found 
that  those  who  are  prudent  or  energetic  or  in- 
telligent or  enlightened  actually  fail  to  repro- 
duce their  own  numbers ;  that  is  to  say,  they  do 
not  on  the  average  have  as  many  as  two  children 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     195 

each  who  survive  infancy.  On  the  other  hand, 
those  who  have  the  opposite  qualities  have, 
on  the  average,  more  than  two  childnen  each, 
and  more  than  reproduce  their  own  num- 
bers. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  effect  which 
this  will  have  upon  the  character  of  the  popula- 
tion without  a  much  greater  knowledge  of 
heredity  than  exists  at  present.  But  so  long  as 
children  continue  to  live  with  their  parents,  pa- 
rental example  and  early  education  must  have 
a  great  influence  in  developing  their  character, 
even  if  we  leave  heredity  entirely  out  of  account. 
Whatever  may  be  thought  of  genius,  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  intelligence,  whether  through 
heredity  or  through  education,  tends  to  run  in 
families,  and  that  the  decay  of  the  families  in 
which  it  is  common  must  lower  the  mental 
standard  of  the  population.  It  seems  unques- 
tionable that  if  our  economic  system  and  our 
moral  standards  remain  unchanged,  there  will 
be,  in  the  next  two  or  three  generations,  a  rapid 
change  for  the  worse  in  the  character  of  the 
population  in  all  civilized  countries,  and  an 
actual  diminution  of  numbers  in  the  most  civil- 
ized. 

The  diminution  of  numbers,  in  all  likelihood, 


196  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

will  rectify  itself  in  time  tlirougli  the  elimina- 
tion of  those  characteristics  which  at  present 
lead  to  a  small  birth-rate.  Men  and  w^omen  who 
can  still  believe  the  Catholic  faith  will  have  a 
biological  advantage ;  gradually  a  race  will  grow 
up  which  will  be  impervious  to  all  the  assaults 
of  reason,  and  will  believe  imperturbably  that 
limitation  of  families  leads  to  hell-fire.  Women 
who  have  mental  interests,  who  care  about  art 
or  literature  or  politics,  who  desire  a  career  or 
who  value  their  liberty,  will  gradually  grow 
rarer,  and  be  more  and  more  replaced  by  a 
placid  maternal  type  w^hich  has  no  interests  out- 
side the  home  and  no  dislike  of  the  burden  of 
motherhood.  This  result,  which  ages  of  mascu- 
line domination  have  vainly  striven  to  achieve, 
is  likely  to  be  the  final  outcome  of  women's 
emancipation  and  of  their  attempt  to  enter  upon 
a  wider  sphere  than  that  to  which  the  jealousy 
of  men  confined  them  in  the  past. 

Perhaps,  if  the  facts  could  be  ascertained, 
it  would  be  found  that  something  of  the  same 
kind  occurred  in  the  Roman  Empire.  The  de- 
cay of  energy  and  intelligence  during  the  sec- 
ond, third,  and  fourth  centuries  of  our  era  has 
always  remained  more  or  less  mysterious.  But 
there  is  reason  to  think  that  then,  as  now,  the 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     197 

best  elements  of  the  population  in  eacli  genera- 
tion failed  to  reproduce  themselves,  and  that 
the  least  vigorous  were,  as  a  rule,  those  to  whom 
the  continuance  of  the  race  was  due.  One  might 
be  tempted  to  suppose  that  civilization,  when  it 
has  reached  a  certain  height,  becomes  unstable, 
and  tends  to  decay  through  some  inherent  weak- 
ness, some  failure  to  adapt  the  life  of  instinct  to 
the  intense  mental  life  of  a  period  of  high  cul- 
ture. But  such  vague  theories  have  always 
something  glib  and  superstitious  which  makes 
them  worthless  as  scientific  explanations  or  as 
guides  to  action.  It  is  not  by  a  literary  for- 
mula, but  by  detailed  and  complex  thought,  that 
a  true  solution  is  to  be  found. 

Let  us  first  be  clear  as  to  what  we  desire. 
There  is  no  importance  in  an  increasing  popula- 
tion; on  the  contrary,  if  the  population  of  Eu- 
rope were  stationary,  it  would  be  much  easier  to 
promote  economic  reform  and  to  avoid  war. 
What  is  regrettable  at  present  is  not  the  decline 
of  the  birth-rate  in  itself,  but  the  fact  that  the 
decline  is  greatest  in  the  best  elements  of  the 
population.  There  is  reason,  however,  to  fear 
in  the  future  three  bad  results :  first,  an  absolute 
decline  in  the  numbers  of  English,  French,  and 
Germans;  secondly,  as  a  consequence  of  this 


198  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

decline,  their  subjugation  by  less  civilized  races 
and  the  extinction  of  their  tradition;  thirdly,  a 
revival  of  their  numbers  on  a  much  lower  plane 
of  civilization,  after  generations  of  selection  of 
those  who  have  neither  intelligence  nor  fore- 
sight. If  this  result  is  to  be  avoided,  the  pres- 
ent unforunate  selectiveness  of  the  birth-rate 
must  be  somehow  stopped. 

The  problem  is  one  which  applies  to  the  whole 
of  Western  civilization.  There  is  no  difficulty 
in  discovering  a  theoretical  solution,  but  there 
is  great  difficulty  in  persuading  men  to  adopt  a 
solution  in  practice,  because  the  effects  to  be 
feared  are  not  immediate  and  the  subject  is  one 
upon  which  people  are  not  in  the  habit  of  using 
their  reason.  If  a  rational  solution  is  ever 
adopted,  the  cause  will  probably  be  interna- 
tional rivalry.  It  is  obvious  that  if  one  State — 
say  Germany — adopted  a  rational  means  of 
dealing  with  the  matter,  it  would  acquire  an 
enormous  advantage  over  other  States  unless 
they  did  likewise.  After  the  war,  it  is  possible 
that  population  questions  will  attract  more  at- 
tention than  they  did  before,  and  it  is  likely  that 
they  will  be  studied  from  the  point  of  view 
of  international  rivalry.  This  motive,  unlike 
reason  and  humanity,  is  perhaps  strong  enough 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     199 

to  overcome  men's  objections  to  a  scientific 
treatment  of  the  birth-rate. 

In  the  past,  at  most  periods  and  in  most  so- 
cieties, the  instincts  of  men  and  women  led  of 
themselves  to  a  more  than  sufiScient  birth-rate ; 
Malthus's  statement  of  the  population  question 
had  been  true  enough  up  to  the  time  when  he 
wrote.  It  is  still  true  of  barbarous  and  semi- 
civilized  races,  and  of  the  worst  elements  among 
civilized  races.  But  it  has  become  false  as  re- 
gards the  more  civilized  half  of  the  population 
in  Western  Europe  and  America.  Among 
them,  instinct  no  longer  suffices  to  keep  numbers 
even  stationary. 

We  may  sum  up  the  reasons  for  this  in  order 
of  importance,  as  follows : — 

1.  The  expense  of  children  is  very  great  if 
parents  are  conscientious. 

2.  An  increasing  number  of  women  desire  to 
have  no  children,  or  only  one  or  two,  in  order 
not  to  be  hampered  in  their  own  careers. 

3.  Owing  to  the  excess  of  women,  a  large 
number  of  women  remain  unmarried.  These 
women,  though  not  debarred  in  practice  from 
relations  with  men,  are  debarred  by  the  code 
from  having  children.  In  this  class  are  to  be 
found  an  enormous  and  increasing  number  of 


200  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

women  who  earn  their  own  living  as  typists,  in 
shops,  or  otherwise.  The  war  has  opened  many 
emiDloyments  to  women  from  which  they  were 
formerly  excluded,  and  this  change  is  probably 
only  in  part  temporary. 

If  the  sterilizing  of  the  best  parts  of  the  popu- 
lation is  to  be  arrested,  the  first  and  most  press- 
ing necessity  is  the  removal  of  the  economic 
motives  for  limiting  families.  The  expense  of 
children  ought  to  be  borne  wholly  by  the  com- 
munity. Their  food  and  clothing  and  education 
ought  to  be  provided,  not  only  to  the  very  poor 
as  a  matter  of  charity,  but  to  all  classes  as  a 
matter  of  public  interest.  In  addition  to  this,  a 
woman  who  is  capable  of  earning  money,  and 
who  abandons  wage-earning  for  motherhood, 
ought  to  receive  from  the  State  as  nearly  as  pos- 
sible what  she  would  have  received  if  she  had  not 
had  children.  The  only  condition  attached  to 
State  maintenance  of  the  mother  and  the  chil- 
dren should  be  that  both  parents  are  physically 
and  mentally  sound  in  all  ways  likely  to  affect 
the  children.  Those  who  are  not  sound  should 
not  be  debarred  from  having  children,  but 
should  continue,  as  at  present,  to  bear  the  ex- 
pense of  children  themselves. 

It  ought  to  be  recognized  that  the  law  is  only 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     201 

concerned  with  marriage  through  the  question 
of  children,  and  should  be  indifferent  to  what 
is  called  "morality,"  which  is  based  upon  cus- 
tom and  texts  of  the  Bible,  not  upon  any  real 
consideration  of  the  needs  of  the  community. 
The  excess  women,  who  at  present  are  in  every 
way  discouraged  from  having  children,  ought 
no  longer  to  be  discouraged.  If  the  State  is  to 
undertake  the  expense  of  children,  it  has  the 
right,  on  eugenic  grounds,  to  know  who  the 
father  is,  and  to  demand  a  certain  stability  in  a 
union.  But  there  is  no  reason  to  demand  or 
expect  a  lifelong  stability,  or  to  exact  any 
ground  for  divorce  beyond  mutual  consent. 
This  would  make  it  possible  for  the  women  who 
must  at  present  remain  unmarried  to  have  chil- 
dren if  they  wished  it.  In  this  way  an  enor- 
mous and  unnecessary  waste  would  be  pre- 
vented, and  a  great  deal  of  needless  unhappiness 
would  be  avoided. 

There  is  no  necessity  to  begin  such  a  system 
all  at  once.  It  might  be  begun  tentatively 
with  certain  exceptionally  desirable  sections  of 
the  community.  It  might  then  be  extended 
gradually,  with  the  experience  of  its  working 
which  had  been  derived  from  the  first  experi- 
ment.   If  the  birth-rate  were  very  much  in- 


202  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

creased,  the  eugenic  conditions  exacted  might 
be  made  more  strict. 

There  are  of  course  various  practical  diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  such  a  scheme :  the  opposi- 
tion of  the  Church  and  the  upholders  of  tradi- 
tional moralit}^,  the  fear  of  weakening  parental 
responsibility,  and  the  expense.  All  these,  how- 
ever, might  be  overcome.  But  there  remains 
one  difficulty  which  it  seems  impossible  to  over- 
come completely  in  England,  and  that  is,  that 
the  whole  conception  is  anti-democratic,  since  it 
regards  some  men  as  better  than  others,  and 
would  demand  that  the  State  should  bestow  a 
better  education  upon  the  children  of  some  men 
than  upon  the  children  of  others.  This  is  con- 
trary to  all  the  principles  of  progressive  politics 
in  England.  For  this  reason  it  can  hardly  be 
expected  that  any  such  method  of  dealing  with 
the  population  question  will  ever  be  adopted  in 
its  entirety  in  this  country.  Something  of  the 
sort  may  well  be  done  in  Germany,  and  if  so,  it 
will  assure  German  hegemony  as  no  merely  mili- 
tary victory  could  do.  But  among  ourselves  we 
can  only  hope  to  see  it  adopted  in  some  partial, 
piecemeal  fashion,  and  probably  only  after  a 
change  in  the  economic  structure  of  society 
which  will  remove  most  of  the  artificial  inequali- 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     203 

ties  that  progressive  parties  are  rightly  trying 
to  diminish. 

So  far  we  have  been  considering  the  question 
of  the  reproduction  of  the  race,  rather  than  the 
effect  of  sex  relations  in  fostering  or  hindering 
the  development  of  men  and  women.  From  the 
point  of  view  of  the  race,  what  seems  needed  is 
a  complete  removal  of  the  economic  burdens  due 
to  children  from  all  parents  who  are  not  phys- 
ically or  mentally  unfit,  and  as  much  freedom 
in  the  law  as  is  compatible  with  public  knowl- 
edge of  paternity.  Exactly  the  same  changes 
seem  called  for  when  the  question  is  considered 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  men  and  women 
concerned. 

In  regard  to  marriage,  as  with  all  the  other 
traditional  bonds  between  human  beings,  a  very 
extraordinary  change  is  taking  place,  wholly 
inevitable,  wholly  necessary  as  a  stage  in  the  de- 
velopment of  a  new  life,  but  by  no  means  wholly 
satisfactory  until  it  is  completed.  All  the  tra- 
ditional bonds  were  based  on  authority — of  the 
king,  the  feudal  baron,  the  priest,  the  father,  the 
husband.  All  these  bonds,  just  because  they 
were  based  on  authority,  are  dissolving  or  al- 
ready dissolved,  and  the  creation  of  other  bonds 
to  take  their  place  is  as  yet  very  incomplete. 


204  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

For  this  reason  human  relations  have  at  present 
an  unusual  triviality,  and  do  less  than  they  did 
formerly  to  break  down  the  hard  walls  of  the 
Ego. 

The  ideal  of  marriage  in  the  past  depended 
upon  the  authority  of  the  husband,  which  was 
admitted  as  a  right  by  the  wife.  The  husband 
was  free,  the  wife  was  a  willing  slave.  In  all 
matters  which  concerned  husband  and  wife 
jointly,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that  the  hus- 
band's fiat  should  be  final.  The  wife  was  ex- 
pected to  be  faithful,  while  the  husband,  except 
in  very  religious  societies,  was  only  expected  to 
throw  a  decent  veil  over  his  infidelities.  Fami- 
lies could  not  be  limited  except  by  continence, 
and  a  wife  had  no  recognized  right  to  demand 
continence,  however  she  might  suffer  from  fre- 
quent children. 

So  long  as  the  husband's  right  to  authority 
was  unquestioningly  believed  by  both  men  and 
women,  this  system  was  fairly  satisfactory,  and 
afforded  to  both  a  certain  instinctive  fulfilment 
which  is  rarely  achieved  among  educated  peo- 
ple now.  Only  one  will,  the  husband's,  had  to 
be  taken  into  account,  and  there  was  no  need  of 
the  difl&cult  adjustments  required  when  common 
decisions  have  to  be  reached  by  two  equal  wills. 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     205 

The  wife's  desires  were  not  treated  seriously 
enough  to  enable  them  to  thwart  the  husband's 
needs,  and  the  wife  herself,  unless  she  was  ex- 
ceptionally selfish,  did  not  seek  self-develop- 
ment, or  see  in  marriage  anything  but  an  op- 
portunity for  duties.  Since  she  did  not  seek  or 
expect  much  happiness,  she  suffered  less,  when 
happiness  was  not  attained,  than  a  woman  does 
now:  her  suffering  contained  no  element  of  in- 
dignation or  surprise,  and  did  not  readily  turn 
into  bitterness  and  sense  of  injury. 

The  saintly,  self-sacrificing  woman  whom  our 
ancestors  praised  had  her  place  in  a  certain 
organic  conception  of  societ}^,  the  conception  of 
the  ordered  hierarchy  of  authorities  which  domi- 
nated the  Middle  Ages.  She  belongs  to  the  same 
order  of  ideas  as  the  faithful  servant,  the  loyal 
subject,  and  the  orthodox  son  of  the  Church. 
This  whole  order  of  ideas  has  vanished  from  the 
civilized  word,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  it  has 
vanished  for  ever,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
society  w^iicli  it  produced  was  vital  and  in  some 
ways  full  of  nobility.  The  old  order  has  been 
destroyed  by  the  new  ideals  of  justice  and 
liberty,  beginning  with  religion,  passing  on  to 
politics,  and  reaching  at  last  the  private  rela- 
tions of  marriage  and  the  family.    When  once 


206  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  question  lias  been  asked,  "Why  should  a 
woman  submit  to  a  man!"  when  once  the  an- 
swers derived  from  tradition  and  the  Bible  have 
ceased  to  satisfy,  there  is  no  longer  any  possi- 
bility of  maintaining  the  old  subordination.  To 
every  man  who  has  the  power  of  thinking  im- 
personally and  freely,  it  is  obvious,  as  soon  as 
the  question  is  asked,  that  the  rights  of  women 
are  precisely  the  same  as  the  rights  of  men. 
Whatever  dangers  and  difficulties,  whatever 
temporary  chaos,  may  be  incurred  in  the  transi- 
tion to  equality,  the  claims  of  reason  are  so  in- 
sistent and  so  clear  that  no  opposition  to  them 
can  hope  to  be  long  successful. 

Mutual  liberty,  which  is  now  demanded,  is 
making  the  old  form  of  marriage  impossible. 
But  a  new  form,  which  shall  be  an  equally  good 
vehicle  for  instinct,  and  an  equal  help  to  spirit- 
tual  growth,  has  not  yet  been  developed.  For 
the  present,  women  who  are  conscious  of  liberty 
as  something  to  be  preserved  are  also  conscious 
of  the  difficulty  of  preserving  it.  The  wish  for 
mastery  is  an  ingredient  in  most  men's  sexual 
passions,  especially  in  those  which  are  strong 
and  serious.  It  survives  in  many  men  whose 
theories  are  entirely  opposed  to  despotism. 
The  result  is  a  fight  for  liberty  on  the  one  side 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     207 

and  for  life  on  the  other.  Women  feel  that  they 
must  protect  their  individuality ;  men  feel,  often 
very  dumbly,  that  the  repression  of  instinct 
which  is  demanded  of  them  is  incompatible  with 
vigor  and  initiative.  The  clash  of  these  oppos- 
ing moods  makes  all  real  mingling  of  personali- 
ties impossible;  the  man  and  woman  remain 
hard,  separate  units,  continually  asking  them- 
selves whether  anything  of  value  to  themselves 
is  resulting  from  the  union.  The  effect  is  that 
relations  tend  to  become  trivial  and  temporary, 
a  pleasure  rather  than  the  satisfaction  of  a 
profound  need,  an  excitement,  not  an  attain- 
ment. The  fundamental  loneliness  into  which 
we  are  born  remains  untouched,  and  the  hunger 
for  inner  companionship  remains  unappeased. 
No  cheap  and  easy  solution  of  this  trouble 
is  possible.  It  is  a  trouble  which  affects  most 
the  most  civilized  men  and  women,  and  is  an  out- 
come of  the  increasing  sense  of  individuality 
which  springs  inevitably  from  mental  progress. 
I  doubt  if  there  is  any  radical  cure  except  in 
some  form  of  religion,  so  firmly  and  sincerely 
believed  as  to  dominate  even  the  life  of  instinct. 
The  individual  is  not  the  end  and  aim  of  his  own 
being:  outside  the  individual,  there  is  the  com- 
munity, the  future  of  mankind,  the  immensity 


208  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

of  the  universe  in  which  all  our  hopes  and  fears 
are  a  mere  pin-point.  A  man  and  woman  with 
reverence  for  the  spirit  of  life  in  each  other, 
with  an  equal  sense  of  their  own  unimportance 
beside  the  w^hole  life  of  man,  may  become  com- 
rades without  interference  with  liberty,  and 
may  achieve  the  union  of  instinct  without  do- 
ing violence  to  the  life  of  mind  and  spirit.  As 
religion  dominated  the  old  form  of  marriage,  so 
religion  must  dominate  the  new.  But  it  must 
be  a  new  religion,  based  upon  liberty,  justice, 
and  love,  not  upon  authority  and  law  and  hell- 
lire. 

A  bad  effect  upon  the  relations  of  men  and 
w^omen  has  been  produced  by  the  romantic 
movement,  through  directing  attention  to  what 
ought  to  be  an  incidental  good,  not  the  purpose 
for  which  relations  exist.  Love  is  what  gives 
intrinsic  value  to  a  marriage,  and,  like  art  and 
thought,  it  is  one  of  the  supreme  things  w4iich 
make  human  life  worth  preserving.  But  though 
there  is  no  good  marriage  without  love,  the  best 
marriages  have  a  purpose  which  goes  beyond 
love.  The  love  of  two  people  for  each  other  is 
too  circumscribed,  too  separate  from  the  com- 
munity, to  be  by  itself  the  main  purpose  of  a 
good  life.    It  is  not  in  itself  a  sufficient  source 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     209 

of  activities,  it  is  not  sufficiently  prospective,  to 
make  an  existence  in  which  ultimate  satisfaction 
can  be  found.  It  brings  its  great  moments,  and 
then  its  times  which  are  less  great,  which  are 
unsatisfying  because  they  are  less  great.  It 
becomes,  sooner  or  later,  retrospective,  a  tomb 
of  dead  joys,  not  a  well-spring  of  new  life.  This 
evil  is  inseparable  from  any  purpose  which  is 
to  be  achieved  in  a  single  supreme  emotion. 
The  only  adequate  purposes  are  those  which 
stretch  out  into  the  future,  which  can  never  be 
fully  achieved,  but  are  always  growing,  and  in- 
finite with  the  infinity  of  human  endeavor.  And 
it  is  only  when  love  is  linked  to  some  infinite 
purpose  of  this  kind  that  it  can  have  the  serious- 
ness and  depth  of  which  it  is  capable. 

For  the  great  majority  of  men  and  women 
seriousness  in  sex  relations  is  most  likely  to 
be  achieved  through  children.  Children  are  to 
most  people  rather  a  need  than  a  desire:  in- 
stinct is  as  a  rule  only  consciously  directed  to- 
wards what  used  to  lead  to  children.  The  desire 
for  children  is  apt  to  develop  in  middle  life, 
when  the  adventure  of  one's  own  existence  is 
past,  when  the  friendships  of  youth  seem  less 
important  than  they  once  did,  when  the  prospect 
of  a  lonely  old  age  begins  to  terrify,  and  the 


210  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

feeling  of  having  no  share  in  the  future  becomes 
oppressive.  Then  those  who,  while  they  were 
young,  have  had  no  sense  that  children  would 
be  a  fulfilment  of  their  needs,  begin  to  regret 
their  former  contempt  for  the  normal,  and  to 
envy  acquaintances  whom  before  they  had 
thought  humdrum.  But  owing  to  economic 
causes  it  is  often  impossible  for  the  young,  and 
especially  for  the  best  of  the  young,  to  have 
children  without  sacrificing  things  of  vital  im- 
portance to  their  own  lives.  And  so  youth 
passes,  and  the  need  is  felt  too  late. 

Needs  without  corresponding  desires  have 
grown  increasingly  common  as  life  has  grown 
more  different  from  that  primitive  existence 
from  which  our  instincts  are  derived,  and  to 
which,  rather  than  to  that  of  the  present  day, 
they  are  still  very  largely  adapted.  An  un- 
satisfied need  produces,  in  the  end,  as  much 
pain  and  as  much  distortion  of  character  as  if 
it  had  been  associated  with  a  conscious  desire. 
For  this  reason,  as  well  as  for  the  sake  of  the 
race,  it  is  important  to  remove  the  present  eco- 
nomic inducements  to  childlessness.  There  is 
no  necessity  whatever  to  urge  parenthood  upon 
those  who  feel  disinclined  to  it,  but  there  is 


/ 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     211 

necessity  not  to  place  obstacles  in  the  way  of 
those  who  have  no  such  disinclination. 

In  speaking  of  the  importance  of  preserving 
seriousness  in  the  relations  of  men  and  women, 
I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  relations  which 
are  not  serious  are  always  harmful.  Tradi- 
tional morality  has  erred  by  laying  stress  on 
what  ought  not  to  happen,  rather  than  on  what 
ought  to  happen.  What  is  important  is  that 
men  and  women  should  find,  sooner  or  later,  the 
best  relation  of  which  their  natures  are  capable. 
It  is  not  always  possible  to  know  in  advance 
what  will  be  the  best,  or  to  be  sure  of  not  missing 
the  best  if  everything  that  can  be  doubted  is  re- 
jected. Among  primitive  races,  a  man  wants  a 
female,  a  woman  wants  a  male,  and  there  is  no 
such  differentiation  as  makes  one  a  much  more 
suitable  companion  than  another.  But  with  the 
increasing  complexity  of  disposition  that  civil- 
ized life  brings,  it  becomes  more  and  more  diffi- 
cult to  find  the  man  or  woman  who  will  bring 
happiness,  and  more  and  more  necessary  to 
make  it  not  too  difficult  to  acknowledge  a  mis- 
take. 

The  present  marriage  law  is  an  inheritance 
from  a  simpler  age,  and  is  supported,  in  the 


212  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

main,  by  unreasoning  fears  and  by  contempt 
for  all  that  is  delicate  and  difficult  in  the  life  of 
the  mind.  Owing  to  the  law,  large  numbers  of 
men  and  women  are  condemned,  so  far  as  their 
ostensible  relations  are  concerned,  to  the  so- 
ciety of  an  utterly  uncongenial  companion,  with 
all  the  embittering  consciousness  that  escape  is 
practically  impossible.  In  these  circumstances, 
happier  relations  with  others  are  often  sought, 
but  they  have  to  be  clandestine,  without  a  com- 
mon life,  and  without  children.  Apart  from  the 
great  evil  of  being  clandestine,  such  relations 
have  some  almost  inevitable  drawbacks.  They 
are  liable  to  emphasize  sex  unduly,  to  be  excit- 
ing and  disturbing;  and  it  is  hardly  possible  that 
they  should  bring  a  real  satisfaction  of  instinct. 
It  is  the  combination  of  love,  children,  and  a 
common  life  that  makes  the  best  relation  be- 
tween a  man  and  a  woman.  The  law  at  present 
confines  children  and  a  common  life  within  the 
bonds  of  monogamy,  but  it  cannot  confine  love. 
By  forcing  many  to  separate  love  from  children 
and  a  common  life,  the  law  cramps  their  J.ives, 
prevents  them  from  reaching  the  full  measure 
of  their  possible  development,  and  inflicts  a 
wholly  unnecessary  torture  upon  those  who  are 
not  content  to  become  frivolous. 


THE  POPULATION  QUESTION     213 

To  sum  up :  The  present  state  of  the  law,  of 
public  opinion,  and  of  our  economic  system  is 
tending  to  degrade  the  quality  of  the  race,  by 
making  the  worst  half  of  the  population  the  par- 
ents of  more  than  half  of  the  next  generation. 
At  the  same  time,  women's  claim  to  liberty  is 
making  the  old  form  of  marriage  a  hindrance  to 
the  development  of  both  men  and  women.  A 
new  system  is  required,  if  the  European  nations 
are  not  to  degenerate,  and  if  the  relations  of 
men  and  women  are  to  have  the  strong  happi- 
ness and  organic  seriousness  which  belonged  to 
the  best  marriages  in  the  past.  The  new  sys- 
tem must  be  based  upon  the  fact  that  to  produce 
children  is  a  service  to  the  State,  and  ought  not 
to  expose  parents  to  heavy  pecuniary  penal- 
ties. It  will  have  to  recognize  that  neither  the 
law  nor  public  opinion  should  concern  itself 
with  the  private  relations  of  men  and  women, 
except  where  children  are  concerned.  It  ought 
to  remove  the  inducements  to  make  relations 
clandestine  and  childless.  It  ought  to  admit 
that,  although  lifelong  monogamy  is  best  when 
it  is  successful,  the  increasing  complexity  of  our 
needs  makes  it  increasingly  often  a  failure  for 
which  divorce  is  the  best  preventive.  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  liberty  is  the  basis  of  political  wis- 


214  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

dom.  And  when  liberty  has  been  won,  what  re- 
mains to  be  desired  must  be  left  to  the  con- 
science and  religion  of  individual  men  and 
women. 


VII 

RELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES 

ALMOST  all  the  changes  which  the  world 
has  undergone  since  the  end  of  the  Middle 
Ages  are  due  to  the  discovery  and  diffusion  of 
new  knowledge.  This  was  the  primary  cause  of 
the  Renaissance,  the  Reformation,  and  the  in- 
dustrial revolution.  It  was  also,  very  directly, 
the  cause  of  the  decay  of  dogmatic  religion. 
The  study  of  classical  texts  and  early  Church 
history,  Copernican  astronomy  and  physics. 
Darwinian  biology  and  comparative  anthro- 
pology, have  each  in  turn  battered  down  some 
part  of  the  edifice  of  Catholic  dogma,  until,  for 
almost  all  thinking  and  instructed  people,  the 
most  that  seems  defensible  is  some  inner  spirit, 
some  vague  hope,  and  some  not  very  definite 
feeling  of  moral  obligation.  This  result  might 
perhaps  have  remained  limited  to  the  educated 
minority  but  for  the  fact  that  the  Churches  have 
almost  everywhere  opposed  political  progress 
with  the  same  bitterness  with  which  they  have 

216 


216  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

opposed  progress  in  thought.  Political  con- 
servatism has  brought  the  Churches  into  conflict 
with  whatever  was  vigorous  in  the  w^orking 
classes,  and  has  spread  free  thought  in  wide 
circles  which  might  otherwise  have  remained 
orthodox  for  centuries.  The  decay  of  dogmatic 
religion  is,  for  good  or  evil,  one  of  the  most 
important  facts  in  the  modern  world.  Its  ef- 
fects have  hardly  yet  begun  to  show  themselves : 
what  they  will  be  it  is  impossible  to  say,  but  they 
will  certainly  be  profound  and  far-reaching. 

Eeligion  is  partly  personal,  partly  social:  to 
the  Protestant  primarily  personal,  to  the  Catho- 
lic primarily  social.  It  is  only  when  the  two 
elements  are  intimately  blended  that  religion 
becomes  a  powerful  force  in  molding  society. 
The  Catholic  Church,  as  it  existed  from  the  time 
of  Constantine  to  the  time  of  the  Reformation, 
represented  a  blending  which  would  have 
seemed  incredible  if  it  had  not  been  actually 
achieved,  the  blending  of  Christ  and  Caesar,  of 
the  morality  of  humble  submission  with  the 
pride  of  Imperial  Rome.  Those  who  loved  the 
one  could  find  it  in  the  Thebaid ;  those  who  loved 
the  other  could  admire  it  in  the  pomp  of  metro- 
politan archbishops.  In  St.  Francis  and  Inno- 
cent III  the  same  two  sides  of  the  Church  are 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     217 

still  represented.  But  since  the  Reformation 
personal  religion  has  been  increasingly  outside 
the  Catholic  Church,  while  the  religion  which 
has  remained  Catholic  has  been  increasingly  a 
matter  of  institutions  and  politics  and  historic 
continuity.  This  division  has  weakened  the 
force  of  religion :  religious  bodies  have  not  been 
strengthened  by  the  enthusiasm  and  single- 
mindedness  of  the  men  in  whom  personal  re- 
ligion is  strong,  and  these  men  have  not  found 
their  teaching  diffused  and  made  permanent  by 
the  power  of  ecclesiastical  institutions. 

The  Catholic  Church  achieved,  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  most  organic  society  and  the 
most  harmonious  inner  synthesis  of  instinct, 
mind,  and  spirit,  that  the  Western  world  has 
ever  known.  St.  Francis,  Thomas  Aquinas,  and 
Dante  represent  its  summit  as  regards  indi- 
vidual development.  The  cathedrals,  the  men- 
dicant Orders,  and  the  triumph  of  the  Pa- 
pacy over  the  Empire  represent  its  supreme 
political  success.  But  the  perfection  which  had 
been  achieved  was  a  narrow  perfection :  instinct, 
mind,  and  spirit  all  suffered  from  curtailment  in 
order  to  fit  into  the  pattern ;  laymen  found  them- 
selves subject  to  the  Church  in  ways  which  they 
resented,  and  the  Church  used  its  power  for 


218  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

rapacity  and  oppression.  The  perfect  synthe- 
sis was  an  enemy  to  new  growth,  and  after  the 
time  of  Dante  all  that  was  living  in  the  world 
had  first  to  fight  for  its  right  to  live  against  the 
representatives  of  the  old  order.  This  fight  is 
even  now  not  ended.  Only  when  it  is  quite 
ended,  both  in  the  external  world  of  politics  and 
in  the  internal  world  of  men's  own  thoughts, 
will  it  be  possible  for  a  new  organic  society  and 
a  new  inner  synthesis  to  take  the  place  which 
the  Church  held  for  a  thousand  years. 

The  clerical  profession  suffers  from  two 
causes,  one  of  which  it  shares  with  some  other 
professions,  while  the  other  is  peculiar  to  itself. 
The  cause  peculiar  to  it  is  the  convention  that 
clergymen  are  more  virtuous  than  other  men. 
Any  average  selection  of  mankind,  set  apart  and 
told  that  it  excels  the  rest  in  virtue,  must  tend 
to  sink  below  the  average.  This  is  an  ancient 
commonplace  in  regard  to  princes  and  those  who 
used  to  be  called  "the  great."  But  it  is  no  less 
true  as  regards  those  of  the  clergy  who  are  not 
genuinely  and  by  nature  as  much  better  than  the 
average  as  they  are  conventionally  supposed  to 
be.  The  other  source  of  harm  to  the  clerical 
profession  is  endowments.  Property  which  is 
only  available  for  those  who  will  support  an  es- 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CPIUKCHES     219 

tablished  institution  has  a  tendency  to  warp 
men's  judgments  as  to  the  excellence  of  the  in- 
stitution. The  tendency  is  aggravated  when 
the  property  is  associated  with  social  considera- 
tion and  opportunities  for  petty  power.  It  is  at 
its  worst  when  the  institution  is  tied  by  law  to 
an  ancient  creed,  almost  impossible  to  change, 
and  yet  quite  out  of  touch  with  the  unfettered 
thought  of  the  present  day.  All  these  causes 
combine  to  damage  the  moral  force  of  the 
Church. 

It  is  not  so  much  that  the  creed  of  the  Church 
is  the  wrong  one.  What  is  amiss  is  the  mere 
existence  of  a  creed.  As  soon  as  income,  posi- 
tion, and  power  are  dependent  upon  acceptance 
of  no  matter  what  creed,  intellectual  honesty  is 
imperiled.  Men  will  tell  themselves  that  a 
formal  assent  is  justified  by  the  good  which 
it  will  enable  them  to  do.  They  fail  to  real- 
ize that,  in  those  whose  mental  life  has  any 
vigor,  loss  of  complete  intellectual  integrity  puts 
an  end  to  the  power  of  doing  good,  by  pro- 
ducing gradually  in  all  directions  an  inability  to 
see  truth  simply.  The  strictness  of  party  disci- 
pline has  introduced  the  same  evil  in  politics; 
there,  because  the  evil  is  comparatively  new,  it 
is  visible  to  many  who  think  it  unimportant  as 


220  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

regards  the  Church.  But  the  evil  is  greater  as 
regards  the  Church,  because  religion  is  of  more 
importance  than  politics,  and  because  it  is  more 
necessary  that  the  exponents  of  religion  should 
be  wholly  free  from  taint. 

The  evils  we  have  been  considering  seem  in- 
separable from  the  existence  of  a  professional 
priesthood.  If  religion  is  not  to  be  harmful  in  a 
world  of  rapid  change,  it  must,  like  the  Society 
of  Friends,  be  carried  on  by  men  who  have  other 
occupations  during  the  week,  who  do  their  re- 
ligious work  from  enthusiasm,  without  receiving 
any  payment.  And  such  men,  because  they 
know  the  everyday  world,  are  not  likely  to  fall 
into  a  remote  morality  which  no  one  regards  as 
applicable  to  common  life.  Being  free,  they 
will  not  be  bound  to  reach  certain  conclusions 
decided  in  advance,  but  will  be  able  to  consider 
moral  and  religious  questions  genuinely,  with- 
out bias.  Except  in  a  quite  stationary  society, 
no  religious  life  can  be  living  or  a  real  support 
to  the  spirit  unless  it  is  freed  from  the  incubus 
of  a  professional  priesthood. 

It  is  largely  for  these  reasons  that  so  little 
of  what  is  valuable  in  morals  and  religion  comes 
nowadays  from  the  men  who  are  eminent  in  the 
religious  world.    It  is  true  that  among  pro- 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHUECHES     221 

fessed  believers  there  are  raany  who  are  wholly 
sincere,  who  feel  still  the  inspiration  which 
Christianity  brought  before  it  had  been  weak- 
ened by  the  progress  of  knowledge.  These  sin- 
cere believers  are  valuable  to  the  world  because 
they  keep  alive  the  conviction  that  the  life  of 
the  spirit  is  what  is  of  most  importance  to  men 
and  women.  Some  of  them,  in  all  the  countries 
now  at  war,  have  had  the  courage  to  preach 
peace  and  love  in  the  name  of  Christ,  and  have 
done  what  lay  in  their  power  to  mitigate  the  bit- 
terness of  hatred.  All  praise  is  due  to  these 
men,  and  without  them  the  world  would  be  even 
worse  than  it  is. 

But  it  is  not  through  even  the  most  sincere 
and  courageous  believers  in  the  traditional  re- 
ligion that  a  new  spirit  can  come  into  the  world. 
It  is  not  through  them  that  religion  can  be 
brought  back  to  those  who  have  lost  it  because 
their  minds  were  active,  not  because  their  spirit 
was  dead.  Believers  in  the  traditional  religion 
necessarily  look  to  the  past  for  inspiration 
rather  than  to  the  future.  They  seek  wisdom 
in  the  teaching  of  Christ,  which,  admirable  as  it 
is,  remains  quite  inadequate  for  many  of  the 
social  and  spiritual  issues  of  modern  life.  Art 
and  intellect  and  all  the  problems  of  govern- 


222  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ment  are  ignored  in  the  Gospels.  Those  who, 
like  Tolstoy,  endeavor  seriously  to  take  the 
Gospels  as  a  guide  to  life  are  compelled  to  re- 
gard the  ignorant  peasant  as  the  best  type  of 
man,  and  to  brush  aside  political  questions  by  an 
extreme  and  impracticable  anarchism. 

If  a  religious  view  of  life  and  the  world  is 
ever  to  reconquer  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
free-minded  men  and  women,  much  that  we  are 
accustomed  to  associate  with  religion  will  have 
to  be  discarded.  The  first  and  greatest  change 
that  is  required  is  to  establish  a  morality  of 
initiative,  not  a  morality  of  submission,  a  mor- 
ality of  hope  rather  than  fear,  of  things  to  be 
done  rather  than  of  things  to  be  left  un- 
done. It  is  not  the  whole  duty  of  man  to 
slip  through  the  world  so  as  to  escape  the 
wrath  of  God.  The  world  is  our  world,  and  it 
rests  with  us  to  make  it  a  heaven  or  a  hell.  The 
power  is  ours,  and  the  kingdom  and  the  glory 
would  be  ours  also  if  we  had  courage  and  in- 
sight to  create  them.  The  religious  life  that  we 
must  seek  will  not  be  one  of  occasional  solemnity 
and  superstitious  prohibitions,  it  will  not  be  sad 
or  ascetic,  it  will  concern  itself  little  with  rules 
of  conduct.  It  will  be  inspired  by  a  vision  of 
what  human  life  may  be,  and  will  be  happy  with 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     223 

the  joy  of  creation,  living  in  a  large  free  world 
of  initiative  and  hope.  It  will  love  mankind, 
not  for  what  they  are  to  the  outward  eye,  but 
for  what  imagination  shows  that  they  have  it 
in  them  to  become.  It  will  not  readily  con- 
demn, but  it  will  give  praise  to  positive  achieve- 
ment rather  than  negative  sinlessness,  to  the  joy 
of  life,  the  quick  affection,  the  creative  insight, 
by  which  the  world  may  grow  young  and  beauti- 
ful and  filled  with  vigor. 

** Religion"  is  a  word  which  has  many  mean- 
ings and  a  long  history.  In  origin,  it  was  con- 
cerned with  certain  rites,  inherited  from  a  re- 
mote past,  performed  originally  for  some  reason 
long  since  forgotten,  and  associated  from  time 
to  time  with  various  myths  to  account  for  their 
supposed  importance.  Much  of  this  lingers 
still.  A  religious  man  is  one  who  goes  to 
church,  a  communicant,  one  who  "practises,"  as 
Catholics  say.  How  he  behaves  otherwise,  or 
how  he  feels  concerning  life  and  man's  place  in 
the  world,  does  not  bear  upon  the  question 
whether  he  is  ''religious"  in  this  simple  but  his- 
torically correct  sense.  Many  men  and  women 
are  religious  in  this  sense  without  having  in 
their  natures  anything  that  deserves  to  be  called 
religion  in  the  sense  in  which  I  mean  the  word. 


224  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

The  mere  familiarity  of  the  Church  service  has 
made  them  impervious  to  it;  they  are  uiicon- 
soious  of  all  the  history  and  human  experience 
by  which  the  liturgy  has  been  enriched,  and 
unmoved  by  the  glibly  repeated  words  of  the 
Gospel,  which  condemn  almost  all  the  activities 
of  those  who  fancy  themselves  disciples  of 
Christ.  This  fate  must  overtake  any  habitual 
rite :  it  is  impossible  that  it  should  continue  to 
produce  much  effect  after  it  has  been  performed 
so  often  as  to  grow  mechanical. 

The  activities  of  men  may  be  roughly  derived 
from  three  sources,  not  in  actual  fact  sharply 
separate  one  from  another,  but  sufficiently  dis- 
tinguishable to  deserve  different  names.  The 
three  sources  I  mean  are  instinct,  mind,  and 
spirit,  and  of  these  three  it  is  the  life  of  the 
spirit  that  makes  religion. 

The  life  of  instinct  includes  all  that  man 
shares  with  the  lower  animals,  all  that  is  con- 
cerned with  self-preservation  and  reproduction 
and  the  desires  and  impulses  derivative  from 
these.  It  includes  vanity  and  love  of  posses- 
sions, love  of  family,  and  even  much  of  what 
makes  love  of  country.  It  includes  all  the  im- 
pulses that  are  essentially  concerned  witli  the 
biological  success  of  oneself  or  one's  group — 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHUECHES     225 

for  among  gTegarious  animals  the  life  of  in- 
stinct includes  the  group.  The  impulses  which 
it  includes  may  not  in  fact  make  for  success, 
and  may  often  in  fact  militate  against  it,  but 
are  nevertheless  those  of  which  success  is  the 
raison  d'etre,  those  which  express  the  animal 
nature  of  man  and  his  position  among  a  world 
of  competitors. 

.  The  life  of  the  mind  is  the  life  of  pursuit  of 
knowledge,  from  mere  childish  curiosity  up  to 
the  greatest  efforts  of  thought.  Curiosity  ex- 
ists in  animals,  and  serves  an  obvious  biolog- 
ical purpose ;  but  it  is  only  in  men  that  it  passes 
beyond  the  investigation  of  particular  objects 
which  may  be  edible  or  poisonous,  friendly  or 
hostile.  Curiosity  is  the  primary  impulse  out 
of  which  the  whole  edifice  of  scientific  knowl- 
edge has  grown.  Knowledge  has  been  found 
so  useful  that  most  actual  acquisition  of  it  is 
no  longer  prompted  by  curiosity;  innumerable 
other  motives  now  contribute  to  foster  the  in- 
tellectual life.  Nevertheless,  direct  love  of 
knowledge  and  dislike  of  error  still  play  a  very 
large  part,  especially  with  those  who  are  most 
successful  in  learning.  No  man  acquires  much 
knowledge  unless  the  acquisition  is  in  itself  de- 
lightful to  him,  apart  from  any  consciousness 


226  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

of  the  use  to  which  the  knowledge  may  be  put. 
The  impulse  to  acquire  knowledge  and  the  activ- 
ities which  center  round  it  constitute  what  I 
mean  by  the  life  of  the  mind.  The  life  of  the 
mind  consists  of  thought  w^hich  is  wholly  or  par- 
tially impersonal,  in  the  sense  that  it  concerns 
itself  with  objects  on  their  own  account,  and 
not  merely  on  account  of  their  bearing  upon 
our  instinctive  life. 

The  life  of  the  spirit  centers  round  imper- 
sonal feeling,  as  the  life  of  the  mind  centers 
round  impersonal  thought.  In  this  sense,  all 
ar,t  belongs  to  the  life  of  the  spirit,  though  its 
greatness  i's'derited  ffom  its  ^^iiig  also  inti- 
mately bound  up  with  the  life  of  instinct.  Art 
starts  from  instinct  and  rises  into  the  region 
of  the  spirit;  religion  starts  from  the  spirit 
and  endeavors  to  dominate  and  inform  the  life 
of  instinct.  It  is  possible  to  feel  the  same  in- 
terest in  the  joys  and  sorrows  of  others  as  in 
our  own,  to  love  and  hate  independently  of  all 
relation  to  ourselves,  to  care  about  the  destiny 
of  man  and  the  development  of  the  universe 
without  a  thought  that  we  are  personally  in- 
volved. Eeverence  and  worship,  the  sense  of 
an  obligation  to  mankind,  the  feeling  of  im- 
perativeness and  acting  under  orders  which  tra- 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     227 

ditional  religion  has  interpreted  as  Divine  in- 
spiration, all  belong  to  the  life  of  the  spirit. 
And  deeper  than  all  these  lies  the  sense  of  a 
mystery  half  revealed,  of  a  hidden  wisdom  and 
glory,  of  a  transfiguring  vision  in  which  com- 
mon things  lose  their  solid  importance  and  be- 
come a  thin  veil  behind  which  the  ultimate  truth 
of  the  world  is  dimly  seen.  It  is  such  feelings 
that  are  the  source  of  religion,  and  if  they  were 
to  die  most  of  what  is  best  would  vanish  out 
of  life. 

Instinct,  mind,  and  spirit  are  all  essential  to 
a  full  life;  each  has  its  own  excellence  and  its 
own  corruption.  Each  can  attain  a  spurious 
excellence  at  the  expense  of  the  others;  each 
has  a  tendency  to  encroach  upon  the  others; 
but  in  the  life  which  is  to  be  sought  all  three 
will  be  developed  in  coordination,  and  inti- 
mately blended  in  a  single  harmonious  whole. 
Among  uncivilized  men  instinct  is  supreme,  and 
mind  and  spirit  hardly  exist.  Among  educated 
men  at  the  present  day  mind  is  developed,  as 
a  rule,  at  the  expense  of  both  instinct  and  spirit, 
producing  a  curious  inhumanity  and  lifeless- 
ness,  a  paucity  of  both  personal  and  imper- 
sonal desires,  which  leads  to  cynicism  and  in- 
tellectual destructiveness.    Among  ascetics  and 


228  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

most  of  those  who  would  be  call  saints,  the  life 
of  the  spirit  has  been  developed  at  the  expense 
of  instinct  and  mind,  producing  an  outlook 
which  is  impossible  to  those  who  have  a  healthy 
animal  life  and  to  those  who  have  a  love  of  ac- 
tive thought.  It  is  not  in  any  of  these  one- 
sided developments  that  we  can  find  wisdom  or 
a  philosophy  which  will  bring  new  life  to  the 
civilized  world. 

Among  civilized  men  and  w^omen  at  the  pres- 
ent day  it  is  rare  to  find  instinct,  mind,  and 
spirit  in  harmony.  Very  few  have  achieved  a 
practical  philosophy  which  gives  its  due  place 
to  each ;  as  a  rule,  instinct  is  at  war  with  either 
mind  or  spirit,  and  mind  and  spirit  are  at  war 
with  each  other.  This  strife  compels  men  and 
women  to  direct  much  of  their  energy  inwards, 
instead  of  being  able  to  expend  it  all  in  objec- 
tive activities.  When  a  man  achieves  a  pre- 
carious inward  peace  by  the  defeat  of  a  part  of 
his  nature,  his  vital  force  is  impaired,  and  his 
growth  is  no  longer  quite  healthy.  If  men  are 
to  remain  whole,  it  is  very  necessary  that  they 
should  achieve  a  reconciliation  of  instinct, 
mind,  and  spirit. 

Instinct  is  the  source  of  vitality,  the  oond 
that  unites  the  life  of  the  individual  with  the 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     229 

life  of  the  race,  the  basis  of  all  profound  sense 
of  union  with  others,  and  the  means  by  which 
the  collective  life  nourishes  the  life  of  the  sepa- 
rate units.  But  instinct  by  itself  leaves  us 
powerless  to  control  the  forces  of  Nature,  either 
in  ourselves  or  in  our  physical  environment, 
and  keeps  us  in  bondage  to  the  same  unthink- 
ing impulse  by  which  the  trees  grow.  Mind  can 
liberate  us  from  this  bondage,  by  the  power  of 
impersonal  thought,  which  enables  us  to  judge 
critically  the  purely  biological  purposes  towards 
which  instinct  more  or  less  blindly  tends.  But 
mind,  in  its  dealings  with  instinct,  is  merely 
critical:  so  far  as  instinct  is  concerned,  the  un- 
checked activity  of  the  mind  is  apt  to  be  de- 
structive and  to  generate  cynicism.  Spirit  is  an 
antidote  to  the  cynicism  of  mind:  it  universal- 
izes the  emotions  that  spring  from  instinct,  and 
by  universalizing  them  makes  them  impervious 
to  mental  criticism.  And  when  thought  is  in- 
formed by  spirit  it  loses  its  cruel,  destructive 
quality;  it  no  longer  promotes  tlie  death  of  in- 
stinct, but  only  its  purification  from  insistence 
and  ruthlessness  and  its  emancipation  from  the 
prison  walls  of  accidental  circumstance.  It  is 
instinct  that  gives  force,  mind  that  gives  the 
means  of  directing  force  to  desired  ends,  and 


230  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

spirit  that  suggests  impersonal  uses  for  force 
of  a  kind  that  thought  cannot  discredit  by  criti- 
cism. This  is  an  outUne  of  the  parts  that  in- 
stinct, mind,  and  spirit  would  play  in  a  harmoni- 
ous life. 

Instinct,  mind,  and  spirit  are  each  a  help  to 
the  others  when  their  development  is  free  and 
unvitiated ;  but  when  corruption  comes  into  any 
one  of  the  three,  not  only  does  that  one  fail,  but 
the  others  also  become  poisoned.  All  three 
must  grow  together.  And  if  they  are  to  grow 
to  their  full  stature  in  any  one  man  or  woman, 
that  man  or  woman  must  not  be  isolated,  but 
must  be  one  of  a  society  where  growth  is  not 
thwarted  and  made  crooked. 

The  life  of  instinct,  when  it  is  unchecked  by 
mind  or  spirit,  consists  of  instinctive  cycles, 
which  begin  with  impulses  to  more  or  less  defi- 
nite acts,  and  pass  on  to  satisfaction  of  needs 
through  the  consequences  of  these  impulsive 
acts.  Impulse  and  desire  are  not  directed 
towards  the  whole  cycle,  but  only  towards  its 
initiation:  the  rest  is  left  to  natural  causes. 
We  desire  to  eat,  but  we  do  not  desire  to  be 
nourished  unless  we  are  valetudinarians.  Yet 
without  the  nourishment  eating  is  a  mere  mo- 
mentary pleasure,  not  part  of  the  general  im- 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     231 

pulse  to  life.  Men  desire  sexual  intercourse, 
but  they  do  not  as  a  rule  desire  children 
strongly  or  often.  Yet  without  the  hope  of 
children  and  its  occasional  realization,  sexual 
intercourse  remains  for  most  people  an  isolated 
and  separate  pleasure,  not  uniting  their  per- 
sonal life  with  the  life  of  mankind,  not  continu- 
ous with  the  central  purposes  by  which  they 
live,  and  not  capable  of  bringing  that  profound 
sense  of  fulfilment  which  comes  from  comple- 
tion by  children.  Most  men,  unless  the  impulse 
is  atrophied  through  disuse,  feel  a  desire  to  cre- 
ate something,  great  or  small  according  to  their 
capacities.  Some  few  are  able  to  satisfy  this 
desire :  some  happy  men  can  create  an  Empire, 
a  science,  a  poem,  or  a  picture.  The  men  of  sci- 
ence, who  have  less  difficulty  than  any  others 
in  finding  an  outlet  for  creativeness,  are  the 
happiest  of  intelligent  men  in  the  modern 
world,  since  their  creative  activity  affords  full 
satisfaction  to  mind  and  spirit  as  well  as  to  the 
instinct  of  creation.^  In  them  a  beginning  is 
to  be  seen  of  the  new  way  of  life  which  is  to  be 
sought ;  in  their  happiness  we  may  perhaps  find 

1 1  should  add  artists  but  for  the  fact  that  most  modern 
artists  seem  to  find  much  greater  difficulty  in  creation  than 
men  of  science  usually  find. 


232  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  germ  of  a  future  happiness  for  all  man- 
kind. The  rest,  with  few  exceptions,  are 
thwarted  in  their  creative  impulses.  They  can- 
not build  their  own  house  or  make  their  own 
garden,  or  direct  their  own  labor  to  producing 
what  their  free  choice  would  lead  them  to  pro- 
duce. In  this  way  the  instinct  of  creation, 
which  should  lead  on  to  the  life  of  mind  and 
spirit,  is  checked  and  turned  aside.  Too  often 
it  is  turned  to  destruction,  as  the  only  effective 
action  which  remains  possible.  Out  of  its  de- 
feat grows  envy,  and  out  of  env}^  grows  the  im- 
pulse to  destroy  the  creativeness  of  more  for- 
tunate men.  This  is  one  of  the  greatest  sources 
of  corruption  in  the  life  of  instinct. 

The  life  of  instinct  is  important,  not  only  on 
its  own  account,  or  because  of  the  direct  use- 
fulness of  the  actions  w^hich  it  inspires,  but  also 
because,  if  it  is  unsatisfactory,  the  individual 
life  becomes  detached  and  separated  from  the 
general  life  of  man.  All  really  profound  sense 
of  unity  with  others  depends  upon  instinct,  upon 
cooperation  or  agreement  in  some  instinctive 
purpose.  This  is  most  obvious  in  the  relations 
of  men  and  women  and  parents  and  children. 
But  it  is  true  also  in  wider  relations.  It  is  true 
of  large  assemblies  swayed  by  a  strong  common 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHUECHES     233 

emotion,  and  even  of  a  whole  nation  in  times  of 
stress.  It  is  part  of  what  makes  the  value  of 
religion  as  a  social  institution.  Where  this 
feeling  is  wholly  absent,  other  human  beings 
seem  distant  and  aloof.  Where  it  is  actively 
thwarted,  other  human  beings  become  objects 
of  instinctive  hostility.  The  aloofness  or  the 
instinctive  hostility  may  be  masked  by  religious 
love,  which  can  be  given  to  all  men  regardless 
of  their  relation  to  ourselves.  But  religious 
love  does  not  bridge  the  gulf  that  parts  man 
from  man:  it  looks  across  the  gulf,  it  views 
others  with  compassion  or  impersonal  sympa- 
thy, but  it  does  not  live  with  the  same  life  with 
which  they  live.  Instinct  alone  can  do  this,  but 
only  when  it  is  fruitful  and  sane  and  direct.  To 
this  end  it  is  necessary  that  instinctive  cycles 
should  be  fairly  often  completed,  not  inter- 
rupted in  the  middle  of  their  course.  At  pres- 
ent they  are  constantly  interrupted,  partly  by 
purposes  which  conflict  with  them  for  economic 
or  other  reasons,  partly  by  the  pursuit  of  pleas- 
ure, which  picks  out  the  most  agreeable  part  of 
the  cycle  and  avoids  the  rest.  In  this  way  in- 
stinct is  robbed  of  its  importance  and  serious- 
ness; it  becomes  incapable  of  bringing  any  real 
fulfilment,  its  demands  grow  more  and  more 


234  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

excessive,  and  life  becomes  no  longer  a  whole 
with  a  single  movement,  but  a  series  of  detached 
moments,  some  of  them  pleasurable,  most  of 
them  full  of  weariness  and  discouragement. 

The  life  of  the  mind,  although  supremely  ex- 
cellent in  itself,  cannot  bring  health  into  the 
life  of  instinct,  except  when  it  results  in  a  not 
too  difficult  outlet  for  the  instinct  of  creation. 
In  other  cases  it  is,  as  a  rule,  too  widely  sepa- 
rated from  instinct,  too  detached,  too  destitute 
of  inward  growth,  to  afford  either  a  vehicle  for 
instinct  or  a  means  of  subtilizing  and  refining 
it.  Thought  is  in  its  essence  impersonal  and 
detached,  instinct  is  in  its  essence  personal  and 
tied  to  particular  circumstances:  between  the 
two,  unless  both  reach  a  high  level,  there  is  a 
war  which  is  not  easily  appeased.  This  is  the 
fundamental  reason  for  vitalism,  futurism, 
pragmatism,  and  the  various  other  philosophies 
which  advertise  themselves  as  vigorous  and 
virile.  All  these  represent  the  attempt  to  find 
a  mode  of  thought  which  shall  not  be  hostile  to 
instinct.  The  attempt,  in  itself,  is  deserving  of 
praise,  but  the  solution  offered  is  far  too  facile. 
What  is  proposed  amounts  to  a  subordination  of 
thought  to  instinct,  a  refusal  to  allow  thought 
to  achieve  its  own  ideal.    Thought  which  does 


BELIGION  AND  THE  CHUECHES     235 

not  rise  above  what  is  personal  is  not  thought 
in  any  true  sense:  it  is  merely  a  more  or  less 
intelligent  use  of  instinct.  It  is  thought  and 
spirit  that  raise  man  above  the  level  of  the 
brutes.  By  discarding  them  we  may  lose  the 
proper  excellence  of  men,  but  cannot  acquire 
the  excellence  of  animals.  Thought  must 
achieve  its  full  growth  before  a  reconciliation 
with  instinct  is  attempted. 

When  refined  thought  and  unrefined  instinct 
coexist,  as  they  do  in  many  intellectual  men, 
the  result  is  a  complete  disbelief  in  any  impor- 
tant good  to  be  achieved  by  the  help  of  instinct. 
According  to  their  disposition,  some  such  men 
will  as  far  as  possible  discard  instinct  and  be- 
come ascetic,  while  others  will  accept  it  as  a  ne- 
cessity, leaving  it  degraded  and  separated  from 
all  that  is  really  important  in  their  lives. 
Either  of  these  courses  prevents  instinct  from 
remaining  vital,  or  from  being  a  bond  with  oth- 
ers; either  produces  a  sense  of  physical  soli- 
tude, a  gulf  across  which  the  minds  and  spirits 
of  others  may  speak,  but  not  their  instincts. 
To  very  many  men,  the  instinct  of  patriotism, 
when  the  war  broke  out,  was  the  first  instinct 
that  had  bridged  the  gulf,  the  first  that  had  made 
them  feel  a  really  profound  unity  with  others. 


236  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

This  instinct,  just  because,  in  its  intense  form, 
it  was  new  and  unfamiliar,  had  remained  unin- 
fected by  thought,  not  paralyzed  or  devitalized 
by  doubt  and  cold  detachment.  The  sense  of 
unity  which  it  brought  is  capable  of  being 
brought  by  the  instinctive  life  of  more  normal 
times,  if  thought  and  spirit  are  not  hostile  to 
it.  And  so  long  as  this  sense  of  unity  is  ab- 
sent, instinct  and  spirit  cannot  be  in  harmony, 
nor  can  the  life  of  the  community  have  vigor 
and  the  seeds  of  new  growth. 

The  life  of  the  mind,  because  of  its  detach- 
ment, tends  to  separate  a  man  inwardly  from 
other  men,  so  long  as  it  is  not  balanced  by  the 
life  of  the  spirit.  For  this  reason,  mind  with- 
out spirit  can  render  instinct  corrupt  or  atro- 
phied, but  cannot  add  any  excellence  to  the  life 
of  instinct.  On  this  ground,  some  men  are  hos- 
tile to  thought.  But  no  good  purpose  is  served 
by  trying  to  prevent  the  growth  of  thought, 
which  has  its  own  insistence,  and  if  checked  in 
the  directions  in  which  it  tends  naturally,  will 
turn  into  other  directions  where  it  is  more  harm- 
ful. And  thought  is  in  itself  god-like:  if  the 
opposition  between  thought  and  instinct  were 
irreconcilable,  it  would  be  thought  that  ought 
to  conquer.    But  the  opposition  is  not  irrecou- 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     237 

ciliable:  all  that  is  necessary  is  that  both 
thought  and  instinct  should  be  informed  by  the 
life  of  the  spirit. 

In  order  that  human  life  should  have  vigor, 
it  is  necessary  for  the  instinctive  impulses  to 
be  strong  and  direct;  but  in  order  that  human 
life  should  be  good,  these  impulses  must  be  dom- 
inated and  controlled  by  desires  less  personal 
and  ruthless,  less  liable  to  lead  to  conflict  than 
those  that  are  inspired  by  instinct  alone.  Some- 
thing impersonal  and  universal  is  needed  over 
and  above  what  springs  out  of  the  principle  of 
individual  growth.  It  is  this  that  is  given  by 
the  life  of  the  spirit. 

Patriotism  affords  an  example  of  the  kind  of 
control  which  is  needed.  Patriotism  is  com- 
pounded out  of  a  number  of  instinctive  feelings 
and  impulses :  love  of  home,  love  of  those  whose 
ways  and  outlook  resemble  our  own,  the  impulse 
to  cooperation  in  a  group,  the  sense  of  pride  in 
the  achievements  of  one's  group.  All  these  im- 
pulses and  desires,  like  everything  belonging  to 
the  life  of  instinct,  are  personal,  in  the  sense 
that  the  feelings  and  actions  which  they  inspire 
towards  others  are  determined  by  the  relation 
of  those  others  to  ourselves,  not  by  what  those 
others   are   intrinsically.    All   these    impulses 


238  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

and  desires  unite  to  produce  a  love  of  man's 
own  country  which  is  more  deeply  implanted  in 
the  fiber  of  his  being,  and  more  closely  united 
to  his  vital  force,  than  any  love  not  rooted  in 
instinct.  But  if  spirit  does  not  enter  in  to  gen- 
eralize love  of  country,  the  exclusiveness  of  in- 
stinctive love  makes  it  a  source  of  hatred  of 
other  countries.  What  spirit  can  effect  is  to 
make  us  realize  that  other  countries  equally  are 
worthy  of  love,  that  the  vital  warmth  which 
makes  us  love  our  own  country  reveals  to  us 
that  it  deserves  to  be  loved,  and  that  only  the 
poverty  of  our  nature  prevents  us  from  loving 
all  countries  as  we  love  our  own.  In  this  way 
instinctive  love  can  be  extended  in  imagination, 
and  a  sense  of  the  value  of  all  mankind  can  grow 
up,  which  is  more  living  and  intense  than  any 
that  is  possible  to  those  whose  instinctive  love 
is  weak.  Mind  can  only  show  us  that  it  is  ir- 
rational to  love  our  own  country  best;  it  can 
weaken  patriotism,  but  cannot  strengthen  the 
love  of  all  mankind.  Spirit  alone  can  do  this, 
by  extending  and  universalizing  the  love  that  is 
born  of  instinct.  And  in  doing  this  it  checks 
and  purifies  whatever  is  insistent  or  ruthless 
or  oppressively  personal  in  the  life  of  instinct. 
The  same  extension  through  spirit  is  neces- 


RELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     239 

sary  with  other  instinctive  loves,  if  they  are  not 
to  be  enfeebled  or  corrupted  by  thought.  The 
love  of  husband  and  wife  is  capable  of  being  a 
very  good  thing,  and  when  men  and  women  are 
sufficiently  primitive  nothing  but  instinct  and 
good  fortune  is  needed  to  make  it  reach  a  cer- 
tain limited  perfection.  But  as  thought  begins 
to  assert  its  right  to  criticize  instinct  the  old 
simplicity  becomes  impossible.  The  love  of 
husband  and  wife,  as  unchecked  instinct  leaves 
it,  is  too  narrow  and  personal  to  stand  against 
the  shafts  of  satire,  until  it  is  enriched  by  the 
life  of  the  spirit.  The  romantic  view  of  mar- 
riage, which  our  fathers  and  mothers  professed 
to  believe,  will  not  survive  an  imaginative  pere- 
grination down  a  street  of  suburban  villas,  each 
containing  its  couple,  each  couple  having  con- 
gratulated themselves  as  they  first  crossed  the 
threshold,  that  here  they  could  love  in  peace, 
without  interruption  from  others,  without  con- 
tact with  the  cold  outside  world.  The  separate- 
ness  and  stuffiness,  the  fine  names  for  coward- 
ices and  timid  vanities,  that  are  shut  within  the 
four  walls  of  thousands  upon  thousands  of  lit- 
tle villas,  present  themselves  coldly  and  merci- 
lessly to  those  in  whom  mind  is  dominant  at 
the  expense  of  spirit. 


240  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Nothing  is  good  in  the  life  of  a  human  being 
except  the  very  best  that  his  nature  can  achieve. 
As  men  advance,  things  which  have  been  good 
cease  to  be  good,  merely  because  something  bet- 
ter is  possible.  So  it  is  with  the  life  of  instinct : 
for  those  whose  mental  life  is  strong,  much  that 
was  really  good  while  mind  remained  less  de- 
veloped has  now  become  bad  merely  through 
the  greater  degree  of  truth  in  their  outlook  on 
the  world.  The  instinctive  man  in  love  feels 
that  his  emotion  is  unique,  that  the  lady  of  his 
heart  has  perfections  such  as  no  other  woman 
ever  equaled.  The  man  who  has  acquired  the 
power  of  impersonal  thought  realizes,  when  he 
is  in  love,  that  he  is  one  of  so  many  millions 
of  men  who  are  in  love  at  this  moment,  that  not 
more  than  one  of  all  the  millions  can  be  right 
in  thinking  his  love  supreme,  and  that  it  is  not 
likely  that  that  one  is  oneself.  He  perceives 
that  the  state  of  being  in  love  in  those  whose  in- 
stinct is  unaffected  by  thought  or  spirit,  is  a 
state  of  illusion,  serving  the  ends  of  Nature  and 
making  a  man  a  slave  to  the  life  of  the  species, 
not  a  willing  minister  to  the  impersonal  ends 
which  he  sees  to  be  good.  Thought  rejects  this 
slavery;  for  no  end  that  Nature  may  have  in 
view  will  thought  abdicate,  or  forgo  its  right 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     241 

to  think  truly.  ''Better  the  world  should  per- 
ish than  that  I  or  any  other  human  being  should 
believe  a  lie" — this  is  the  religion  of  thought, 
in  whose  scorching  flames  the  dross. of  the  world 
is  being  burnt  away.  It  is  a  good  religion,  and 
its  work  of  destruction  must  be  completed.  But 
it  is  not  all  that  man  has  need  of.  New  growth 
must  come  after  the  destruction,  and  new 
growth  can  come  only  through  the  spirit. 

Both  patriotism  and  the  love  of  man  and 
woman,  when  they  are  merely  instinctive,,  have 
the  same  defects :  their  exclusions,  their  enclos- 
ing walls,  their  indifference  or  hostility  to  the 
outside  world.  It  is  through  this  that  thought 
is  led  to  satire,  that  comedy  has  infected  what 
men  used  to  consider  their  holiest  feelings.  The 
satire  and  the  comedy  are  justified,  but  not  the 
death  of  instinct  which  they  may  produce  if 
they  remain  in  supreme  command.  They  are 
justified,  not  as  the  last  word  of  wisdom  but  as 
the  gateway  of  pain  through  which  men  pass 
to  a  new  life,  where  instinct  is  purified  and  yet 
nourished  by  the  deeper  desires  and  insight  of 
spirit. 

The  man  who  has  the  life  of  the  spirit  within 
him  views  the  love  of  man  and  woman,  both 
in  himself  and  in  others,  quite  differently  from 


242  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

the  man  wlio  is  exclusively  dominated  by  mind. 
He  sees,  in  his  moments  of  insight,  that  in  all 
human  beings  there  is  something  deserving  of 
love,  something  mysterious,  something  appeal- 
ing, a  cry  out  of  the  night,  a  groping  journey, 
and  a  possible  victory.  When  his  instinct  loves, 
he  welcomes  its  help  in  seeing  and  feeling  the 
value  of  the  human  being  whom  he  loves.  In- 
stinct becomes  a  reinforcement  to  spiritual  in- 
sight. What  instinct  tells  him  spiritual  insight 
confirms,  however  much  the  mind  may  be  aware 
of  littlenesses,  limitations,  and  enclosing  walls 
that  prevent  the  spirit  from  shining  forth.  His 
spirit  divines  in  all  men  what  his  instinct  shows 
him  in  the  object  of  his  love. 

The  love  of  parents  for  children  has  need  of 
the  same  transformation.  The  purely  instinc- 
tive love,  unchecked  by  thought,  uninformed  by 
spirit,  is  exclusive,  ruthless,  and  unjust.  No 
benefit  to  others  is  felt,  by  the  purely  instinc- 
tive parent,  to  be  worth  an  injury  to  one's  own 
children.  Honor  and  conventional  morality 
place  certain  important  practical  limitations  on 
the  vicarious  selfishness  of  parents,  since  a  civ- 
ilized community  exacts  a  certain  minimum  be- 
fore it  will  give  respect.  But  within  the  limits 
allowed  by  public  opinion,  parental  affection, 


EELIGION  AND  THE  CHURCHES     243 

when  it  is  merely  instinctive,  will  seek  the  ad- 
vantage of  children  without  regard  to  others. 
Mind  can  weaken  the  impulse  to  injustice,  and 
diminish  the  force  of  instinctive  love,  but  it  can- 
not keep  the  whole  force  of  instinctive  love  and 
turn  it  to  more  universal  ends.  Spirit  can  do 
this.  It  can  leave  the  instinctive  love  of  chil- 
dren undimmed,  and  extend  the  poignant  devo- 
tion of  a  parent,  in  imagination,  to  the  whole 
world.  And  parental  love  itself  will  prompt 
the  parent  who  has  the  life  of  the  spirit  to  give 
to  his  children  the  sense  of  justice,  the  readiness 
for  service,  the  reverence,  the  will  that  controls 
self-seeking,  which  he  feels  to  be  a  greater  good 
than  any  personal  success. 

The  life  of  the  spirit  has  suffered  in  recent 
times  by  its  association  with  traditional  reli- 
gion, by  its  apparent  hostility  to  the  life  of  the 
mind,  and  by  the  fact  that  it  has  seemed  to  cen- 
ter in  renunciation.  The  life  of  the  spirit  de- 
mands readiness  for  renunciation  when  the  oc- 
casion arises,  but  is  in  its  essence  as  positive 
and  as  capable  of  enriching  individual  existence 
as  mind  and  instinct  are.  It  brings  with  it  the 
joy  of  vision,  of  the  mystery  and  profundity  of 
the  world,  of  the  contemplation  of  life,  and 
above  all  the  joy  of  universal  love.    It  liberates 


244  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

those  who  have  it  from  the  prison-house  of  in- 
sistent personal  passion  and  mundane  cares. 
It  gives  freedom  and  breadth  and  beauty  to 
men's  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  to  all  their 
relations  with  others.  It  brings  the  solution  of 
doubts,  the  end  of  the  feeling  that  all  is  vanity. 
It  restores  harmony  between  mind  and  in- 
stinct, and  leads  the  separated  unit  back  into 
his  place  in  the  life  of  mankind.  For  those  who 
have  once  entered  the  world  of  thought,  it  is 
only  through  spirit  that  happiness  and  peace 
can  return. 


vin 

WHAT  WE  CAN  DO 

WHAT  can  we  do  for  the  world  while  we 
live? 

Many  men  and  women  would  wish  to  serve 
mankind,  but  they  are  perplexed  and  their 
power  seems  infinitesimal.  Despair  seizes 
them ;  those  who  have  the  strongest  passion  suf- 
fer most  from  the  sense  of  impotence,  and  are 
most  liable  to  spiritual  ruin  through  lack  of 
hope. 

So  long  as  we  think  only  of  the  immediate 
future,  it  seems  that  what  we  can  do  is  not  much. 
It  is  probably  impossible  for  us  to  bring  the  war 
to  an  end.  We  cannot  destroy  the  excessive 
power  of  the  State  or  of  private  property.  We 
cannot,  here  and  now,  bring  new  life  into  edu- 
cation. In  such  matters,  though  we  may  see 
the  evil,  we  cannot  quickly  cure  it  by  any  of  the 
ordinary  methods  of  politics.  We  must  recog- 
nize that  the  world  is  ruled  in  a  wrong  spirit, 
and  that  a  change  of  spirit  will  not  come  from 

245 


246  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

oue  day  to  the  next.  Our  expectations  must 
not  be  for  to-morrow,  but  for  the  time  when 
what  is  thought  now  by  a  few  shall  have  become 
the  common  thought  of  many.  If  we  have  cour- 
age and  patience,  we  can  think  the  thoughts  and 
feel  the  hopes  by  which,  sooner  or  later,  men 
will  be  inspired,  and  weariness  and  discourage- 
ment will  be  turned  into  energy  and  ardor.  For 
this  reason,  the  first  thing  we  have  to  do  is  to 
be  clear  in  our  own  minds  as  to  the  kind  of  life 
we  think  good  and  the  kind  of  change  that  we 
desire  in  the  world. 

The  ultimate  power  of  those  whose  thought 
is  vital  is  far  greater  than  it  seems  to  men  who 
suffer  from  the  irrationality  of  contemporary 
politics.  Eeligious  toleration  was  once  the  soli- 
tary speculation  of  a  few  bold  philosophers. 
Democracy,  as  a  theory,  arose  among  a  hand- 
ful of  men  in  Cromwell's  army;  by  them,  after 
the  Eestoration,  it  was  carried  to  America, 
where  it  came  to  fruition  in  the  War  of  Inde- 
pendence. From  America,  Lafayette  and  the 
other  Frenchmen  who  fought  by  the  side  of 
Washington  brought  the  theory  of  democracy 
to  France,  where  it  united  itself  with  the  teach- 
ing of  Rousseau  and  inspired  the  Revolution. 
Socialism,  whatever  we  may  think  of  its  merits, 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  247 

is  a  gTeat  and  growing  power,  which  is  trans- 
forming economic  and  political  life;  and  social- 
ism owes  its  origin  to  a  very  small  number  of 
isolated  theorists.  The  movement  against  the 
subjection  of  women,  which  has  become  irresist- 
ible and  is  not  far  from  complete  triumph,  be- 
gan in  the  same  way  with  a  few  impracticable 
idealists — Mary  Wollstonecraft,  Shelley,  John 
Stuart  Mill.  The  power  of  thought,  in  the  long 
run,  is  greater  than  any  other  human  power. 
Those  who  have  the  ability  to  think  and  the 
imagination  to  think  in  accordance  with  men's 
needs,  are  likely  to  achieve  the  good  they  aim 
at  sooner  or  later,  though  probably  not  while 
they  are  still  alive. 

But  those  who  wish  to  gain  the  world  by 
thought  must  be  content  to  lose  it  as  a  support 
in  the  present.  Most  men  go  through  life  with- 
out much  questioning,  accepting  the  beliefs  and 
practices  which  they  find  current,  feeling  that 
the  world  will  be  their  ally  if  they  do  not  put 
themselves  in  opposition  to  it.  New  thought 
about  the  world  is  incompatible  with  this  com- 
fortable acquiescence;  it  requires  a  certain  in- 
tellectual detachment,  a  certain  solitary  energy, 
a  power  of  inwardly  dominating  the  world  and 
the  outlook  that  the  world  engenders.    Without 


248  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

some  willingness  to  be  lonely  new  thought  can- 
not be  achieved.  And  it  will  not  be  achieved  to 
any  purpose  if  the  lonelijiess  is  accompanied  by 
aloofness,  so  that  the  wish  for  union  with  others 
dies,  or  if  intellectual  detachment  leads  to  con- 
tempt. It  is  because  the  state  of  mind  required 
is  subtle  and  difficult,  because  it  is  hard  to  be 
intellectually  detached  yet  not  aloof,  that  fruit- 
ful thought  on  human  affairs  is  not  common,  and 
that  most  theorists  are  either  conventional  or 
sterile.  The  right  kind  of  thought  is  rare  and 
difficult,  but  it  is  not  impotent.  It  is  not  the 
fear  of  impotence  that  need  turn  us  aside  from 
thought  if  we  have  the  wish  to  bring  new  hope 
into  the  world. 

In  seeking  a  political  theory  which  is  to  be 
useful  at  any  given  moment,  what  is  wanted  is 
not  the  invention  of  a  Utopia,  but  the  discovery 
of  the  best  direction  of  movement.  The  direc- 
tion which  is  good  at  one  time  may  be  super- 
ficially very  different  from  that  which  is  good 
at  another  time.  Useful  thought  is  that  which 
indicates  the  right  direction  for  the  present 
time.  But  in  judging  what  is  the  right  direc- 
tion there  are  two  general  principles  which  are 
always  applicable. 

1.  The  growth  and  vitality  of  individuals  and 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  249 

communities  is  to  be  promoted  as  far  as  pos- 
sible. 

2.  The  growth  of  one  individual  or  one  com- 
munity is  to  be  as  little  as  possible  at  the  ex- 
pense of  another. 

The  second  of  these  principles,  as  applied  by 
an  individual  in  his  dealings  with  others,  is  the 
principle  of  reverence,  that  the  life  of  another 
has  the  same  importance  which  we  feel  in  our 
own  life.  As  applied  impersonally  in  politics, 
it  is  the  principle  of  liberty,  or  rather  it  includes 
the  principle  of  liberty  as  a  part.  Liberty  in 
itself  is  a  negative  principle;  it  tells  us  not  to 
interfere,  but  does  not  give  any  basis  for  con- 
struction. It  shows  that  many  political  and  so- 
cial institutions  are  bad  and  ought  to  be  swept 
away,  but  it  does  not  show  what  ought  to  be  put 
in  their  place.  For  this  reason  a  further  prin- 
ciple is  required,  if  our  political  theory  is  not 
to  be  purely  destructive. 

The  combination  of  our  two  principles  is  not 
in  practice  an  easy  matter.  Much  of  the  vital 
energy  of  the  world  runs  into  channels  which 
are  oppressive.  The  Germans  have  shown 
themselves  extraordinarily  full  of  vital  energy, 
but  unfortunately  in  a  form  which  seems  incom- 
patible  with   the   vitality   of  their   neighbors. 


250  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

Europe  in  general  has  more  vital  energy  than 
Africa,  but  it  has  used  its  energy  to  drain 
Africa,  through  industrialism,  of  even  such  life 
as  the  negroes  possessed.  The  vitality  of 
southeastern  Europe  is  being  drained  to  supply 
cheap  labor  for  the  enterprise  of  American  mil- 
lionaires. The  vitality  of  men  has  been  in  the 
past  a  hindrance  to  the  development  of  women, 
and  it  is  possible  that  in  the  near  future  women 
may  become  a  similar  hindrance  to  men.  For 
such  reasons  the  principle  of  reverence,  though 
not  in  itself  sufficient,  is  of  very  great  impor- 
tance, and  is  able  to  indicate  many  of  the  po- 
litical changes  that  the  world  requires. 

In  order  that  both  principles  may  be  capable 
of  being  satisfied,  what  is  needed  is  a  unifying 
or  integration,  first  of  our  individual  lives,  then 
of  the  life  of  the  community  and  of  the  world, 
without  sacrifice  of  individuality.  The  life  of 
an  individual,  the  life  of  a  community,  and  even 
the  life  of  mankind,  ought  to  be,  not  a  number 
of  separate  fragments  but  in  some  sense  a 
whole.  When  this  is  the  case,  the  growth  of 
the  individual  is  fostered,  and  is  not  incompat- 
ible with  the  growth  of  other  individuals.  In 
this  way  the  two  principles  are  brought  into 
harmony. 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  251 

What  integrates  an  individual  life  is  a  con- 
sistent creative  purpose  or  unconscious  direc- 
tion. Instinct  alone  will  not  suffice  to  give  unity 
to  the  life  of  a  civilized  man  or  woman:  there 
must  be  some  dominant  object,  an  ambition,  a 
desire  for  scientific  or  artistic  creation,  a  reli- 
gious principle,  or  strong  and  lasting  affections. 
Unity  of  life  is  very  difficult  for  a  man  or 
woman  who  has  suffered  a  certain  kind  of  de- 
feat, the  kind  by  which  what  should  have  been 
the  dominant  impulse  is  checked  and  made  abor- 
tive. Most  professions  inflict  this  kind  of  de- 
feat upon  a  man  at  the  very  outset.  If  a  man 
becomes  a  journalist,  he  probably  has  to  write 
for  a  newspaper  whose  politics  he  dislikes ;  this 
kills  his  pride  in  work  and  his  sense  of  inde- 
pendence. Most  medical  men  find  it  very  hard 
to  succeed  without  humbug,  by  which  whatever 
scientific  conscience  they  may  have  had  is  de- 
stroyed. Politicians  are  obliged,  not  only  to 
swallow  the  party  program  but  to  pretend 
to  be  saints,  in  order  to  conciliate  religious  sup- 
porters ;  hardly  any  man  can  enter  Parliament 
without  hypocrisy.  In  no  profession  is  there 
any  respect  for  the  native  pride  without  which 
a  man  cannot  remain  whole;  the  world  ruth- 
lessly crushes  it  out,  because  it  implies  inde- 


252  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

pendence,  and  men  desire  to  enslave  others 
more  than  they  desire  to  be  free  themselves. 
Inward  freedom  is  infinitely  precious,  and  a  so- 
ciety which  will  preserve  it  is  immeasurably  to 
be  desired. 

The  principle  of  growth  in  a  man  is  not 
crushed  necessarily  by  preventing  him  from 
doing  some  definite  thing,  but  it  is  often  crushed 
by  persuading  him  to  do  something  else.  The 
things  that  crush  growth  are  those  that  produce 
a  sense  of  impotence  in  the  directions  in  which 
the  vital  impulse  wishes  to  be  effective.  The 
worst  things  are  those  to  which  the  will  assents. 
Often,  chiefly  from  failure  of  self-knowledge, 
a  man's  will  is  on  a  lower  level  than  his  im- 
pulse :  his  impulse  is  towards  some  kind  of  cre- 
ation, while  his  will  is  towards  a  conventional 
career,  with  a  sufficient  income  and  the  respect 
of  his  contemporaries.  The  stereotyped  illus- 
tration is  the  artist  who  produces  shoddy  work 
to  please  the  public.  But  something  of  the  ar- 
tist's definiteness  of  impulse  exists  in  very 
many  men  who  are  not  artists.  Because  the 
impulse  is  deep  and  dumb,  because  what  is 
called  common  sense  is  often  against  it,  because 
a  young  man  can  only  follow  it  if  he  is  willing 
to  set  up  his  own  obscure  feelings  against  the 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  253 

wisdom  and  prudent  maxims  of  elders  and 
friends,  it  hapjDens  in  ninety-nine  cases  out  of 
a  hundred  that  the  creative  impulse,  out  of 
which  a  free  and  vigorous  life  might  have 
sprung,  is  checked  and  thwarted  at  the  very- 
outset:  the  young  man  consents  to  become  a 
tool,  not  an  independent  workman;  a  mere 
means  to  the  fulfilment  of  others,  not  the  arti- 
ficer of  what  his  own  nature  feels  to  be  good. 
In  the  moment  when  he  makes  this  act  of  con- 
sent something  dies  within  him.  He  can  never 
again  become  a  whole  man,  never  again  have 
the  undamaged  self-respect,  the  upright  pride, 
which  might  have  kept  him  happy  in  his  soul  in 
spite  of  all  outward  troubles  and  difficulties — 
except,  indeed,  through  conversion  and  a  funda- 
mental change  in  his  way  of  life. 

Outward  prohibitions,  to  which  the  will  gives 
no  assent,  are  far  less  harmful  than  the  subtler 
inducements  which  seduce  the  will.  A  serious 
disappointment  in  love  may  cause  the  most 
poignant  pain,  but  to  a  vigorous  man  it  will  not 
do  the  same  inward  damage  as  is  done  by  mar- 
rying for  money.  The  achievement  of  this  or 
that  special  desire  is  not  what  is  essential :  what 
is  essential  is  the  direction,  the  kind  of  effec- 
tiveness which  is  sought.    When  the  fundamen- 


254  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

tal  impulse  is  opposed  by  will,  it  is  made  to  feel 
helpless :  it  Las  no  longer  enough  hope  to  be 
powerful  as  a  motive.  Outward  compulsion 
does  not  do  the  same  damage  unless  it  produces 
the  same  sense  of  impotence;  and  it  will  not 
produce  the  same  sense  of  impotence  if  the  im- 
pulse is  strong  and  courageous.  Some  thwart- 
ing of  special  desires  in  unavoidable  even  in 
the  best  imaginable  community,  since  some 
men's  desires,  unchecked,  lead  to  the  oppres- 
sion or  destruction  of  others.  In  a  good  com- 
munity Napoleon  could  not  have  been  allowed 
the  profession  of  his  choice,  but  he  might  have 
found  happiness  as  a  pioneer  in  Western  Amer- 
ica. He  could  not  have  found  happiness  as  a 
City  clerk,  and  no  tolerable  organization  of  so- 
ciety would  compel  him  to  become  a  City  clerk. 
The  integration  of  an  individual  life  requires 
that  it  should  embody  whatever  creative  impulse 
a  man  may  possess,  and  that  his  education 
should  have  been  such  as  to  elicit  and  fortify 
this  impulse.  The  integration  of  a  community 
requires  that  the  different  creative  impulses  of 
different  men  and  women  should  work  together 
towards  some  common  life,  some  common  pur- 
pose, not  necessarily  conscious,  in  which  all  the 
members  of  the  community  find  a  help  to  their 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  255 

individual  fulfilment.  Most  of  the  activities 
that  spring  from  vital  impulses  consist  of  two 
parts:  one  creative,  which  furthers  one's  own 
life  and  that  of  others  with  the  same  kind  of 
impulse  or  circumstances,  and  one  possessive, 
which  hinders  the  life  of  some  group  with  a  dif- 
ferent kind  of  impulse  or  circumstances.  For 
this  reason,  much  of  what  is  in  itself  most  vital 
may  nevertheless  work  against  life,  as,  for  ex- 
ample, seventeenth-century  Puritanism  did  in 
England,  or  as  nationalism  does  throughout 
Europe  at  the  present  day.  Vitality  easily 
leads  to  strife  or  oppression,  and  so  to  loss  of 
vitality.  War,  at  its  outset,  integrates  the  life 
of  a  nation,  but  it  disintegrates  the  life  of  the 
world,  and  in  the  long  run  the  life  of  a  nation 
too,  when  it  is  as  severe  as  the  present  war. 

The  war  has, made  it  clear  that  it  is  impos- 
sible to  produce  a  secure^kitegration  of  the  life 
of  a  single  community  wnile  the  relations  be- 
tween civilized  countries  are  governed  by  ag- 
gressiveness and  suspicion.  For  this  reason 
any  really  powerful  movement  of  reform  will 
have  to  be  international.  A  merely  national 
movement  is  sure  to  fail  through  fear  of  dan- 
ger from  without.  Those  who  desire  a  better 
world,  or  even  a  radical  improvement  in  their 


256  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

own  country,  will  have  to  cooperate  with  those 
who  have  similar  desires  in  other  countries,  and 
to  devote  much  of  their  energy  to  overcoming 
that  blind  hostility  which  the  war  has  intensi- 
fied. It  is  not  in  partial  integrations,  such  as 
patriotism  alone  can  produce,  that  any  ultimate 
hope  is  to  be  found.  The  problem  is,  in  na- 
tional and  international  questions  as  in  the  in- 
dividual life,  to  keep  what  is  creative  in  vital 
impulses,  and  at  the  same  time  to  turn  into 
other  channels  the  part  which  is  at  present  de- 
structive. 

Men's  impulses  and  desires  may  be  divided 
into  those  that  are  creative  and  those  that  are 
possessive.  Some  of  our  activities  are  directed 
to  creating  what  would  not  otherwise  exist,  oth- 
ers are  directed  towards  acquiring  or  retaining 
what  exists  already.  The  tj^ical  creative  im- 
pulse is  that  of  the  artist;  the  tj^pical  posses- 
sive impulse  is  that  of  property.  The  best  life 
is  that  in  which  creative  impulses  play  the  larg- 
est part  and  possessive  impulses  the  smallest. 
The  best  institutions  are  those  which  produce 
the  greatest  possible  creativeness  and  the  least 
possessiveness  compatible  with  self-preserva- 
tion. Possessiveness  may  be  defensive  or  ag- 
gressive :  in  the  criminal  law  it  is  defensive,  and 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  257 

in  criminals  it  is  aggressive.  It  may  perhaps 
be  admitted  that  the  criminal  law  is  less  abom- 
inable than  the  criminal,  and  that  defensive  pos- 
sessiveness  is  unavoidable  so  long  as  aggressive 
possessiveness  exists.  But  not  even  the  most 
purely  defensive  forms  of  possessiveness  are 
in  themselves  admirable;  indeed,  as  soon  as 
they  are  strong  they  become  hostile  to  the  crea- 
tive impulses.  "Take  no  thought,  saying. 
What  shall  we  eat?  or  What  shall  we  drink,  or 
Wherewithal  shall  we  be  clothed?"  Whoever 
has  known  a  strong  creative  impulse  has  known 
the  value  of  this  precept  in  its  exact  and  literal 
sense:  it  is  preoccupation  with  possessions, 
more  than  anything  else,  that  prevents  men 
from  living  freely  and  nobly.  The  State  and 
Property  are  the  great  embodiments  of  posses- 
siveness; it  is  for  this  reason  that  they  are 
against  life,  and  that  they  issue  in  war.  Pos- 
session means  taking  or  keeping  some  good 
thing  which  another  is  prevented  from  enjoy- 
ing; creation  means  putting  into  the  world  a 
good  thing  which  otherwise  no  one  would  be 
able  to  enjoy.  Since  the  material  goods  of  the 
world  must  be  divided  among  the  population, 
ancTsince  some  men  are  by  nature  brigands, 
there  must  be  defensive  possession,  which  will 


258  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

be  regulated,  in  a  good  community,  by  some 
principle  of  impersonal  justice.  But  all  this 
is  only  the  preface  to  a  good  life  or  good  po- 
litical institutions,  in  which  creation  will  alto- 
gether outweigh  possession,  and  distributive 
justice  will  exist  as  an  uninteresting  matter  of 
course. 

The  supreme  principle,  both  in  politics  and 
in  private  life,  should  be  to  promote  all  that  is 
creative,  and  so  to  diminish  the  impulses  and 
desires  that  center  round  possession.  The 
State  at  present  is  very  largely  an  embodiment 
of  possessive  impulses:  internally,  it  protects 
the  rich  against  the  poor;  externally,  it  uses 
force  for  the  exploitation  of  inferior  races,  and  • 
for  competition  with  other  States.  Our  whole 
economic  system  is  concerned  exclusively  with 
possession;  yet  the  production  of  goods  is  a 
form  of  creation,  and  except  in  so  far  as  it  is 
irredeemably  mechanical  and  monotonous,  it 
might  afford  a  vehicle  for  creative  impulses. 
A  great  deal  might  be  achieved  towards  this 
end  by  forming  the  producers  of  a  certain  kind 
of  commodity  into  an  autonomous  democracy, 
subject  to  State  control  as  regards  the  price  of 
their  commodity  but  not  as  to  the  manner  of  its 
production. 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  259 

Education,  marriage,  and  religion  are  essen- 
tially creative,  yet  all  three  have  been  vitiated 
by  the  intrusion  of  possessive  motives.  Edu- 
cation is  usually  treated  as  a  means  of  prolong- 
^g  the  status  quo  by  instilling  prejudices, 
rather  than  of  creating  free  thought  and  a  noble 
outlook  by  the  example  of  generous  feeling  and 
the  stimulus  of  mental  adventure.  In  mar- 
riage, love,  which  is  creative,  is  kept  in  chains 
by  jealousy,  which  is  possessive.  Religion, 
which  should  set  free  the  creative  vision  of  the 
spirit,  is  usually  more  concerned  to  repress  the 
life  of  instinct  and  to  combat  the  subversiveness 
of  thought.  In  all  these  ways  the  fear  that 
grows  out  of  precarious  possession  has  replaced 
the  hope  inspired  by  creative  force.  The  wish 
to  plunder  others  is  recognized,  in  theory,  to 
be  bad ;  but  the  fear  of  being  plundered  is  little 
better.  Yet  these  two  motives  between  them 
dominate  nine-tenths  of  politics  and  private  life. 
The  creative  impulses  in  different  men  are 
essentially  harmonious,  since  what  one  man 
creates  cannot  be  a  hindrance  to  what  another 
is  wishing  to  create.  It  is  the  possessive  im- 
pulses that  involve  conflict.  Although,  morally 
and  politically,  the  creative  and  possessive  im- 
pulses are  opposites,  yet  psychologically  either 


260  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

passes  easily  into  the  other,  according  to  the 
accidents  of  circumstance  and  opportunity. 
The  genesis  of  impulses  and  the  causes  which 
make  them  change  ought  to  be  studied;  educa^ 
tion  and  social  institutions  ought  to  be  ma(^^ 
such  as  to  strengthen  the  impulses  which  har- 
monize in  different  men,  and  to  weaken  those 
that  involve  conflict.  I  have  no  doubt  that  what 
might  be  accomplished  in  this  way  is  almost  un- 
limited. 

It  is  rather  through  impulse  than  through  will 
that  individual  lives  and  the  life  of  the  com- 
munity can  derive  the  strength  unity  of  a 
single  direction.  Will  is  of  two  kinds,  of  which 
one  is  directed  outward  and  the  other  inward. 
The  first,  which  is  directed  outward,  is  called 
into  play  by  external  obstacles,  eitner  the  op- 
position of  others  or  the  technical  difficulties 
of  an  undertaking.  This  kind  of  will  is  an  ex- 
pression of  strong  impulse  or  desire,  whenever 
instant  success  is  impossible;  it  exists  in  all 
whose  life  is  vigorous,  and  only  decays  when 
their  vital  force  is  enfeebled.  It  is  necessary 
to  success  in  any  difficult  enterprise,  and  with- 
out it  great  achievement  is  very  rare.  But  the 
will  which  is  directed  inward  is  only  necessary 
in  so  far  as  there  is  an  inner  conflict  of  im- 


i 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  261 

pulses  or  desires;  a  perfectly  harmonious  na- 
ture would  have  no  occasion  for  inward  will. 
Such  perfect  harmony  is  of  course  a  scarcely 
realizable  ideal :  in  all  men  impulses  arise  which 
Ipre  incompatible  with  their  central  purpose, 
and  which  must  be  checked  if  their  life  as  a 
whole  is  not  to  be  a  failure.  But  this  will  hap- 
pen least  with  those  whose  central  impulses  are 
strongest ;  and  it  will  happen  less  often  in  a  so- 
ciety which  aims  at  freedom  than  in  a  so- 
ciety like  ours,  which  is  full  of  artificial  incom- 
patibilities created  by  antiquated  institutions 
and  a  tj^rannous  public  opinion.  The  power  to 
exert  inward  will  when  the  occasion  arises  must 
always  be  needed  by  those  who  wish  their  lives 
to  embody  some  central  purpose,  but  with  bet- 
ter institutions  the  occasions  when  inward  will 
is  necessary  might  be  made  fewer  and  less  im- 
portant. This  result  is  very  much  to  be  de- 
sired, because  when  will  checks  impulses  which 
are  only  accidentally  harmful,  it  diverts  a  force 
which  might  be  spent  on  overcoming  outward 
obstacles,  and  if  the  impulses  checked  are 
strong  and  serious,  it  actually  diminishes  the 
vital  force  available.  A  life  full  of  inhibitions 
is  likely  not  to  remain  a  very  vigorous  life  but 
to  become  listless  and  without  zest.     Impulse 


262  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

tends  to  die  when  it  is  constantly  held  in  check  / 
and  if  it  does  not  die,  it  is  apt  to  work  under- 
ground, and  issue  in  some  form  much  worse 
than  that  in  which  it  has  been  checked.  For 
these  reasons  the  necessity  for  using  inward* 
will  ought  to  be  avoided  as  much  as  possible, 
and  consistency  of  action  ought  to  spring  rather 
from  consistency  of  impulse  than  from  control 
of  impulse  by  will. 

The  unifying  of  life  ought  not  to  demand  the 
suppression  of  the  casual  desires  that  make 
amusement  and  play;  on  the  contrary,  every- 
thing ought  to  be  done  to  make  it  easy  to  com- 
bine the  main  purposes  of  life  with  all  kinds  of 
pleasure  that  are  not  in  their  nature  harmful. 
Such  things  as  habitual  drunkenness,  drugs, 
cruel  sports,  or  pleasure  in  inflicting  pain  are 
essentially  harmful,  but  most  of  the  amusements 
that  civilized  men  naturally  enjoy  are  either  not 
harmful  at  all  or  only  accidentally  harmful 
through  some  effect  which  might  be  avoided  in 
a  better  society.  What  is  needed  is,  not  asceti- 
cism or  a  drab  Puritanism,  but  capacity  for 
strong  impulses  and  desires  directed  towards 
large  creative  ends.  When  such  impulses  and 
desires  are  vigorous,  they  bring  with  them,  of 
themselves,  what  is  needed  to  make  a  good  life. 


^ 


WHAT  Wl^  CAN  DO  263 

But  although  amusement  and  adventure 
ought  to  have  their  share,  it  is  impossible  to 
create  a  good  life  if  they  are  what  is  mainly 
desired.  Subjectivism,  the  habit  of  directing 
thought  and  desire  to  our  own  states  of  mind 
rather  than  to  something  objective,  inevitably 
makes  life  fragmentary  and  unprogressive. 
The  man  to  whom  amusement  is  the  end  of  life 
tends  to  lose  interest  gradually  in  the  things 
out  of  which  he  has  been  in  the  habit  of  obtain- 
ing amusement,  since  he  does  not  value  these 
things  on  their  own  account,  but  on  account  of 
the  feelings  which  they  arouse  in  him.  When 
they  are  no  longer  amusing,  boredom  drives 
him  to  seek  some  new  stimulus,  which  fails  him 
in  its  turn.  Amusement  consists  in  a  series  of 
moments  without  any  essential  continuity;  a 
purpose  which  unifies  life  is  one  which  requires 
some  prolonged  activity,  and  is  like  building  a 
monument  rather  than  a  child's  castle  in  the 
sand. 

Subjectivism  has  other  forms  beside  the 
mere  pursuit  of  amusement.  Many  men,  when 
they  are  in  love,  are  more  interested  in  their 
own  emotion  than  in  the  object  of  their  love; 
such  love  does  not  lead  to  any  essential  union, 
but  leaves  fundamental  separateness  undimin- 


264  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ished.  As  soon  as  the  emotion  grows  less  vivid 
the  experience  has  served  its  purpose,  and 
there  seems  no  motive  for  prolonging  it.  In 
another  way,  the  same  evil  of  subjectivism  was 
fostered  by  Protestant  religion  and  morality, 
since  they  directed  attention  to  sin  and  the  state 
of  the  soul  rather  than  to  the  outer  w^orld  and 
our  relations  with  it  None  of  these  forms  of 
subjectivism  can  prevent  a  man's  life  from 
being  fragmentary  and  isolated.  Only  a  life 
which  springs  out  of  dominant  impulses  directed 
to  objective  ends  can  be  a  satisfactory  whole, 
or  be  intimately  united  with  the  lives  of  others. 
The  pursuit  of  pleasure  and  the  pursuit  of 
virtue  alike  suffer  from  subjectivism:  Epi- 
cureanism and  Stoicism  are  infected  with  the 
same  taint.  Marcus  Aurelius,  enacting  good 
laws  in  order  that  he  might  be  virtuous,  is  not 
an  attractive  figure.  Subjectivism  is  a  natural 
outcome  of  a  life  in  which  there  is  much  more 
thought  than  action:  while  outer  things  are  be- 
ing remembered  or  desired,  not  actually  experi- 
enced, they  seem  to  become  mere  ideas.  What 
they  are  in  themselves  becomes  less  interesting 
to  us  than  the  effects  which  they  produce  in  our 
own  minds.  Such  a  result  tends  to  be  brought 
about   by   increasing   civilization,   because   in- 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  265 

creasing  civilization  continually  diminishes  the 
need  for  vivid  action  and  enhances  the  opportu- 
nities for  thought.  But  thought  will  not  have 
this  bad  result  if  it  is  active  thought,  directed 
towards  achieving  some  purpose ;  it  is  only  pas- 
sive thought  that  leads  to  subjectivism.  What 
is  needed  is  to  keep  thought  in  intimate  union 
with  impulses  and  desires,  making  it  always  it- 
self an  activity  with  an  objective  purpose. 
Otherwise,  thought  and  impulse  become  ene- 
mies, to  the  great  detriment  of  both. 

In  order  to  make  the  lives  of  average  men 
and  women  less  fragmentary  and  separate,  and 
to  give  greater  opportunity  for  carrying  out 
creative  impulses,  it  is  not  enough  to  know  the 
goal  we  wish  to  reach,  or  to  proclaim  the  ex- 
cellence of  what  we  desire  to  achieve.  It  is 
necessary  to  understand  the  effect  of  institu- 
tions and  beliefs  upon  the  life  of  impulse,  and 
to  discover  ways  of  improving  this  effect  by  a 
change  in  institutions.  And  when  this  intellec- 
tual work  has  been  done,  our  thought  will  still 
remain  barren  unless  we  can  bring  it  into  rela- 
tion with  some  powerful  political  force.  The 
only  powerful  political  force  from  which  any 
help  is  to  be  expected  in  bringing  about 
such  changes  as  seem  needed  is  Labor.    The 


266  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

changes  required  are  very  largely  such  as  La- 
bor may  be  expected  to  welcome,  especially  dur- 
ing the  time  of  hardship  after  the  war.  When 
the  war  is  over,  labor  discontent  is  sure  to  be 
very  prevalent  throughout  Europe,  and  to  con- 
stitute a  political  force  by  means  of  which  a 
great  and  sweeping  reconstruction  may  be  ef- 
fected. 

The  civilized  world  has  need  of  fundamental 
change  if  it  is  to  be  saved  from  decay — change 
both  in  its  economic  structure  and  in  its  philos- 
ophy of  life.  Those  of  us  who  feel  the  need 
of  change  must  not  sit  still  in  dull  despair :  we 
can,  if  we  choose,  profoundly  influence  the  fu- 
ture. We  can  discover  and  preach  the  kind  of 
change  that  is  required — the  kind  that  pre- 
serves what  is  positive  in  the  vital  beliefs  of 
our  time,  and,  by  eliminating  what  is  negative 
and  inessential,  produces  a  synthesis  to  which 
all  that  is  not  purely  reactionary  can  give  alle- 
giance. As  soon  as  it  has  become  clear  what 
kind  of  change  is  required,  it  will  be  possible 
to  work  out  its  parts  in  more  detail.  But  until 
the  war  is  ended  there  is  little  use  in  detail, 
since  we  do  not  know  what  kind  of  world  the 
war  will  leave.  The  only  thing  that  seems  in- 
dubitable is  that  much  new  thought  will  be  re- 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  267 

quired  in  the  new  world  produced  by  the  war. 
Traditional  views  will  give  little  help.  It  is 
clear  that  men's  most  important  actions  are  not 
guided  by  the  sort  of  motives  that  are  empha- 
sized in  traditional  political  philosophies.  The 
impulses  by  which  the  war  has  been  produced 
and  sustained  come  out  of  a  deeper  region  than 
that  of  most  political  argument.  And  the  op- 
position to  the  war  on  the  part  of  those  few 
who  have  opposed  it  comes  from  the  same  deep 
region.  A  political  theory,  if  it  is  to  hold  in 
times  of  stress,  must  take  account  of  the  im- 
pulses that  underlie  explicit  thought;  it  must 
appeal  to  them,  and  it  must  discover  how  to 
make  them  fruitful  rather  than  destructive. 

Economic  systems  have  a  great  influence  in 
promoting  or  destroying  life.  Except  slavery, 
the  present  industrial  system  is  the  most  de- 
structive of  life  that  has  ever  existed.  Machin- 
ery and  large-scale  production  are  ineradicable, 
and  must  survive  in  any  better  system  which 
is  to  replace  the  one  under  which  we  live.  In- 
dustrial federal  democracy  is  probably  the  best 
direction  for  reform  to  take. 

Philosophies  of  life,  when  they  are  widely  be- 
lieved, also  have  a  very  great  influence  on  the 
vitality  of  a  community.     The  most  widely  ac- 


268  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

cepted  philosophy  of  life  at  present  is  that  what 
matters  most  to  a  man's  happiness  is  his  in- 
come. This  philosophy,  apart  from  other  de- 
merits, is  harmful  because  it  leads  men  to  aim 
at  a  result  rather  than  an  activity,  an  enjoy- 
ment of  material  goods  in  which  men  are  not 
differentiated,  rather  than  a  creative  impulse 
which  embodies  each  man's  individuality. 
More  refined  philosophies,  such  as  are  instilled 
by  higher  education,  are  too  apt  to  fix  attention 
on  the  past  rather  than  the  future,  and  on  cor- 
rect behavior  rather  than  effective  action.  It 
is  not  in  such  philosophies  that  men  will  find 
the  energy  to  bear  lightly  the  weight  of  tradi- 
tion and  of  ever-accumulating  knowledge. 

The  world  has  need  of  a  philosophy,  or  a  re- 
ligion, which  will  promote  life.  But  in  order  to 
promote  life  it  is  necessary  to  value  something 
other  than  mere  life.  Life  devoted  only  to  life 
is  animal  without  any  real  human  value,  inca- 
pable of  preserving  men  permanently  from 
weariness  and  the  feeling  that  all  is  vanity.  If 
life  is  to  be  fully  human  it  must  serve  some  end 
which  seems,  in  some  sense,  outside  human  life, 
some  end  which  is  impersonal  and  above  man- 
kind, such  as  God  or  truth  or  beauty.  Those 
who  best  promote  life  do  not  have  life  for  their 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  269 

purpose.  They  aim  rather  at  what  seems  like 
a  gradual  incarnation,  a  bringing  into  our  hu- 
man existence  of  something  eternal,  something 
that  appears  to  imagination  to  live  in  a  heaven 
remote  from  strife  and  failure  and  the  devour- 
ing jaws  of  Time.  Contact  with  this  eternal 
world — even  if  it  be  only  a  world  of  our  imagin- 
ing— brings  a  strength  and  a  fundamental  peace 
which  cannot  be  wholly  destroyed  by  the  strug- 
gles and  apparent  failures  of  our  temporal  life. 
It  is  this  happy  contemplation  of  what  is  eter- 
nal that  Spinoza  calls  the  intellectual  love  of 
God.  To  those  who  have  once  known  it,  it  is 
the  key  of  wisdom. 

What  we  have  to  do  practically  is  different 
for  each  one  of  us,  according  to  our  capacities 
and  opportunities.  But  if  we  have  the  life  of 
the  spirit  within  us,  what  we  must  do  and  what 
we  must  avoid  will  become  apparent  to  us. 

By  contact  with  what  is  eternal,  by  devoting 
our  life  to  bringing  something  of  the  Divine 
into  this  troubled  world,  we  can  make  our  own 
lives  creative  even  now,  even  in  the  midst  of  the 
cruelty  and  strife  and  hatred  that  surround  us 
on  every  hand.  To  make  the  individual  life  cre- 
ative is  far  harder  in  a  community  based  on 
possession  than  it  would  be  in  such  a  commun- 


270  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

ity  as  human  effort  may  be  able  to  build  up  in 
the  future.  Those  who  are  to  begin  the  regen- 
eration of  the  world  must  face  loneliness,  op- 
position, poverty,  obloquy.  They  must  be  able 
to  live  by  truth  and  love,  with  a  rational  un- 
conquerable hope ;  they  must  be  honest  and  wise, 
fearless,  and  guided  by  a  consistent  purpose. 
A  body  of  men  and  women  so  inspired  will  con- 
quer— first  the  difficulties  and  perplexities  of 
their  individual  lives,  then,  in  time,  though  per- 
haps only  in  a  long  time,  the  outer  world.  Wis- 
dom and  hope  are  what  the  world  needs;  and 
though  it  fights  against  them,  it  gives  its  respect 
to  them  in  the  end. 

When  the  Goths  sacked  Rome,  St.  Augustine 
wrote  the  ''City  of  God,"  putting  a  spiritual 
hope  in  place  of  the  material  reality  that  had 
been  destroyed.  Throughout  the  centuries  that 
followed  St.  Augustine's  hope  lived  and  gave 
life,  while  Rome  sank  to  a  village  of  hovels. 
For  us,  too,  it  is  necessary  to  create  a  new  hope, 
to  build  up  by  our  thought  a  better  world  than 
the  one  which  is  hurling  itself  into  ruin.  Be- 
cause the  times  are  bad,  more  is  required  of  us 
than  would  be  required  in  normal  times.  Only 
a  supreme  fire  of  thought  and  spirit  can  save 
future  generations  from  the  death  that  has  be- 


WHAT  WE  CAN  DO  271 

fallen  the  generation  which  we  knew  and  loved. 
It  has  been  my  good  fortune  to  come  in  con- 
tact as  a  teacher  with  young  men  of  many  dif- 
ferent nations — young  men  in  whom  hope  was 
alive,  in  whom  the  creative  energy  existed  that 
would  have  realized  in  the  world  some  part  at 
least  of  the  imagined  beauty  by  which  they 
lived.  They  have  been  swept  into  the  war,  some 
on  one  side,  some  on  the  other.  Some  are  still 
lighting,  some  are  maimed  for  life,  some  are 
dead ;  of  those  who  survive  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
many  will  have  lost  the  life  of  the  spirit,  that 
hope  will  have  died,  that  energy  will  be  spent, 
and  that  the  years  to  come  will  be  only  a  weary 
journey  towards  the  grave.  Of  all  this  tragedy, 
not  a  few  of  those  who  teach  seem  to  have  no 
feeling:  with  ruthless  logic,  they  prove  that 
these  young  men  have  been  sacrificed  unavoid- 
ably for  some  coldly  abstract  end ;  undisturbed 
themselves,  they  lapse  quickly  into  comfort 
after  any  momentary  assault  of  feeling.  In 
such  men  the  life  of  the  spirit  is  dead.  If  it 
were  living,  it  would  go  out  to  meet  the  spirit 
in  the  young,  with  a  love  as  poignant  as  the  love 
of  father  or  mother.  It  would  be  unaware  of 
the  bounds  of  self;  their  tragedy  would  be  its 
own.     Something  would  cry  out:    ''No,  this  is 


272  WHY  MEN  FIGHT 

not  right;  this  is  not  good;  this  is  not  a  holy 
cause,  in  which  the  brightness  of  youth  is  de- 
stroyed and  dimmed.  It  is  we,  the  old,  who 
have  sinned;  we  have  sent  these  young  men  to 
the  battlefield  for  our  evil  passions,  our  spiritual 
death,  our  failure  to  live  generously  out  of  the 
warmth  of  the  heart  and  out  of  the  living  vision 
of  the  spirit.  Let  us  come  out  of  this  death, 
for  it  is  we  who  are  dead,  not  the  young  men 
who  have  died  through  our  fear  of  life.  Their 
very  ghosts  have  more  life  than  we :  they  hold 
us  up  for  ever  to  the  shame  and  obloquy  of  all 
the  ages  to  come.  Out  of  their  ghosts  must 
eome  life,  and  it  is  we  whom  they  must  vivify. ' ' 


THE  END 


f^lLiDKAnrt^jr 


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